


The Winds of the Heavens

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/M, IN SPACE!, phrack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of the Melbourne branch of the Space/Terra Enhancement and Enforcement League has been asked to undertake an important mission, and he'll have to head into space to get it done.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are not familiar with steampunk as a genre, here's a [general definition](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steampunk). I am a huge fan of the steampunk romance subgenre, and I truly hope that this does it justice. It's not yet finished, but I wanted to post it while the "Out of Space and Time" trope challenge was still active, so it'll be a little longer between updates than is my usual preference. I hope you like it enough to stick with me!
> 
> In case you're wondering, the title is from this quote by Khalil Gibran: “But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.” I thought it fit.

Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of STEEL stood amidst the hubbub of the Port of Melbourne and gazed at the ship hovering quietly at the top of a long tether. Other ships lined the docks, both on the water and in the air, each one different—some enormous and others tiny, some shining with wax and polish and others dingy and ramshackle; regardless, they all represented a journey into the unknown. Not all of them would be fitted for space travel; some would take their crews to explore the world they were on, by air or by sea. The one Jack faced was gorgeous—its hull lacquered in a warm ivory and its fittings a surprising red-painted iron, it had three masts, each with multiple solar sails currently tightly furled, and a raised bridge where the pilot’s wheel sat. 

An unexpected thrill shot through Jack at the idea of exploring the universe, even a little, on a ship as magnificent as this one. In general, he was the kind of man who spent the majority of his life on solid ground, for all that he worked for the Space/Terra Enhancement and Enforcement League. After the time he’d spent aboard a space ship while he served in the army, he hadn’t thought he’d want to be on one again, and he’d been dreading that part of his assignment.

Jack had been flattered when Chief Commissioner Hart had asked him to travel undercover to a nearby planet, where he would act as courier, delivering a set of blueprints for a technological breakthrough that would change the face of the Earth. As Jack understood it, the machine could help clean the air over some of the world’s major cities, which was choked by coal dust and soot. Steam power, with all of the good it did, had also done some damage that was proving terribly dangerous to the people who lived with it. 

“I know it’s not your usual beat, Robinson,” Hart had said, his eyes laser sharp and his thick white mustache twitching as he spoke, “but I need someone for this whom I trust absolutely.” He’d folded his hands atop his desk and frowned. “STEEL is lucky to have gotten this information, and we will share the plans freely in a way that others wouldn’t. If they fall into the wrong hands, the consequences could be catastrophic.” 

“Mercenaries would start wars trying to make the most profit off of the design. I understand, sir.” He’d sat straight-backed in the chief’s visitor’s chair, a steely determination to complete his assigned task hardening inside him. “You can count on me.” 

“Take a constable with you,” Hart went on, reaching into his desk and withdrawing a form, which he began to quickly fill out. “Take this to Jenkins on six—he’ll set both of you up with whatever documents you’ll need.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jack considered a moment. “I think Collins would be my choice—he’s young yet, but he’s learning, and he’ll grow a lot on an assignment like this.”

“That’s fine. Just be ready to leave at noon tomorrow.” Hart handed him the form as Jack stood. “Be careful, inspector. I’ll look forward to your return.”

Nodding to the chief, Jack had headed out to put everything in order. It’d been twenty years since he’d gone off-planet, and he’d never thought to do it again. Collins, on the other hand, had never traveled in space. When Jack had approached him with the assignment, he could see the boy’s nerves, but Collins stepped up, just as Jack thought he would.

“Sir?” Constable Hugh Collins’ calm voice, coming from behind him, drew Jack from his memories. “Is that the ship?” Collins’ face was slightly flushed, and his mouth remained slightly open the way it did when he was awed. Jack stifled the urge to push it closed with a finger under his constable’s jaw.

“That’s her, Collins,” Jack replied, his eyes returning to the _Lady Oddly_. “She’s a beauty, and she’ll bear us well, I think.”

The ship’s pale hull gleamed with care, and the red ironwork and brass fittings were clean and bright; the rear exhaust ports for its hybrid solar-steam engine were dark just now, but Jack knew that they’d blaze with light as the ship pushed out into space. Looking closely, he could see the relays that crossed the hull in a regular pattern to anchor the force shield that both kept the ship safe and contained the breathable air for its passengers.

Jack sent a glance and a small smile at his constable and hitched his sailor’s bag up with his opposite hand. He reached out to lay a comforting slap against Collins’ shoulder. “Not to worry—the chief said that he’d worked with this ship and her captain before. They’ll get us there and back again, I’m sure of it.”

Collins slipped a finger inside his shirt collar, so different from his usual constable’s uniform, and nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Meeting Jack’s eyes, he firmed his jaw. “Lead the way, sir.”

“Good man,” Jack said bracingly.

They wove through the throngs of dock workers, sailors, and travelers toward the ship, unaware of the two sets of eyes that watched them from its deck.

 

* * *

 

“Dibs.” 

“What? No!” The Honorable Captain Phryne Fisher turned her head to look at her first mate. Dorothy Williams leaned comfortably against the rail beside the ship’s wheel, her eyes on the man making his way toward _Lady Oddly_. “He doesn’t seem your type, Dot. Too…” 

She turned back to look at the man. He wore a fashionable gray plaid three-piece suit with paler gray piping along its seams, and his tie was a rich red that seemed to hint at a temperament that the rest of his outfit denied. His dark hair was covered by a black bowler hat and his body was trim, but he hefted a rucksack over one shoulder without apparent effort. Phryne licked her lips. He would be quite fit, most likely.

“You generally go for prettier men, Dot,” she continued. “This one’s rather sharp-edged for your usual taste.” She looked over at her friend, her eyebrows raised.

Dorothy glanced at her, puzzled. “Not that one, captain, the other.”

“The other?” Phryne looked back, and sure enough, the man she’d been ogling had a companion—and a deliciously sharp jawline, now that she saw him more closely. Dragging her attention back to the companion, she could see that he was younger by at least ten years, and definitely the pretty sort that Dorothy favored. His eyes were wide—a first-time space traveler, she’d guess—and he had a respectably square jaw as well. His shoulders were broad within the confines of his brown suit, and he had the large, slightly meaty-looking hands of a boxer.

“Oh yes. The other.” Dorothy’s voice dropped. “I think he’ll do nicely.”

“Ah, well, have at him, darling,” Phryne said with a smile, her attention returning to the lithe, hard-looking man who led Dot’s choice their direction. “I’ll take the sharp one for myself.” 

She exchanged an amused glance with her first mate—neither of them would take anything that wasn’t given freely, of course. If they were lucky, both of these men would lean toward women and yet neither would have a wife. 

“Why don’t you greet them, then, Dot?” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Dot’s sweet smile was deceptively innocent. It, along with her curvy body and mean right hook, had led to some interesting adventures. She moved toward the men, who had just stepped off the cargo platform onto the ship’s deck and were looking around.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Dot’s voice was sugar over steel, and it drew the two men’s attention. They watched her jump lightly down the last few steps to the deck. The older man’s expression remained serious, but the younger man’s mouth dropped open and a pink flush touched his cheeks as she approached, her skirts swishing. “How can the _Lady Oddly_ help you?”

“Good morning. My name is Jack Robinson.” The older man let his bag down onto the deck as he spoke, and Phryne shivered a little at the deep growl of his voice. She licked her lips again, wondering whether it would go deeper when he was in the throes of passion. “My colleague and I have booked round-trip passage to Caragnana with Captain Fisher.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Robinson, we’ve been expecting you. I am Miss Williams,” Dot responded, holding out her hand to shake the older man’s. Turning to his companion, she held her hand out again. “And you are?”

“C-Collins. Hugh Collins.” The young man’s stammer was rather adorable, and Phryne watched as Dot’s smile became sweeter still.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Collins,” she said, dimpling up at him. She had yet to release his hand, Phryne noted, and Jack Robinson was watching them. His expression had hardly shifted, but Phryne could tell that he was amused—good, a sense of humor would serve him well on this ship. She smiled slyly—perhaps it was time to deflect the man’s attention.

Phryne straightened from the shaded spot where she’d been leaning to watch the show and settled her tricorne hat firmly on her head. She saw the tall, lean man’s eyes, attracted by her movement, come to rest on her. As she descended to the main deck, she made a point to let her hips sway as she walked, and she smirked as she felt his gaze cataloguing her body.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Robinson, Mr. Collins,” she said, pitching her voice to carry as she approached. “The Honorable Captain Phryne Fisher, at your service.” On the last words, she held out her hand to Jack—she hoped he’d give her leave to call him that—and let her voice drop to a quieter register. “We hope you’ll find your time aboard _Lady Oddly_ comfortable.” His hand was warm, and she could feel callouses that meant he was no stranger to manual labor. She let her fingers stroke his palm as she pulled her hand away.

“Captain Fisher,” he said in that low voice, “I am certain that we’ll be completely satisfied by your hospitality.” The amusement she’d seen in his face had settled back into seriousness, but she thought she saw a spark of interest in his eyes as his lips twitched into a minute smile.

“Miss Williams will show you to your cabins,” she waved toward the staircase to the ship’s lower levels. “We’re just awaiting some final supplies and then we’ll be underway.”

With a nod, he swung his rucksack up to his shoulder again and turned to follow Dorothy and Mr. Collins belowdecks, his right hand fisted at his side. Phryne let herself watch him walk away; his suit jacket hid his backside, damn the luck, but his legs looked powerful and his shoulders were broad enough to create a pleasing V toward his hips. Once they had begun their journey, she hoped that she would have a chance to see the body that hid beneath that sober suit.

But that was something to look forward to; right now, she had work to do.

 

* * *

 

Jack followed Collins and the sweet-looking Miss Williams—he was pretty certain she was only partially as innocent as she appeared to be, and he rather thought that Collins would find that out sooner rather than later—down the staircase to the sleeping quarters, feeling the captain’s eyes on his back the whole way. 

It was possible that she watched him—watched them—because she didn’t trust them. He wouldn’t blame her if that was the case; it was a smart stance to take in a business like hers. And it was true that he and Collins were traveling under falsified papers. They also carried their STEEL credentials, of course, but unless it was an emergency, if the captain didn’t know they were police, he couldn’t tell her.

If she was watching him with suspicion then, so be it, but he hoped she might be watching because she liked the way he looked. He’d seen attraction in her eyes, and there’d been that stroke of his palm—he could still feel it, its echo smooth and sensuous within his clenched fist. Yes, he really did hope that she admired him. He certainly found her beautiful, with her bright blue eyes that were lit with intelligence and the smooth way that she moved.

And he had to admit that the air of command that she wore like a second skin was as attractive as her physical presence. He recalled the contrast of her pale skin with the blood-red blouse she wore, and the leather corset that had emphasized her small breasts. Her calf-length skirts, striped in the same red and a rich brown, showed off shapely ankles in tall leather boots and the edges of enough petticoats to keep her modesty. Her black hair was bobbed short, most likely for easy management, and it exposed the long, pale line of her throat. He wondered whether she enjoyed short-term flings—if she was interested, he would very much like to explore her more, and he rather thought the finite nature of this journey might suit him perfectly.

He nodded at Miss Williams as she opened his cabin door and gestured him inside, then moved across the hall to open a door for Collins. Jack closed his door once he knew where Collins’ quarters were, allowing the two young people to do what they would. Collins deserved to have some fun of his own if the lad was brave enough to venture into it.

With quick motions, Jack unpacked and secured his things in the trunk that was fastened beside the head of the bed. It was not a large room, but the bed was bigger than he expected—wide enough for two, if they lay close together—and a door to one side proved to be a private water closet with a sink, toilet, and small bathtub, complete with hot and cold running water. He marveled at this for a moment, then realized that there would be plenty of heat from the steam engine for as much water as the ship could carry. 

Back in the room, he investigated a cupboard over the small desk, and drew his breath in with surprise. Inside was a small spigot, a tiny teapot and cup, and two tin boxes. He held the cup beneath the spigot, hardly daring to believe, and sure enough, hot water poured out. Marveling, he checked the tins; the smaller one held tea, rich and fragrant, and the larger contained a half-dozen fresh biscuits. He could get used to this.

With a quick shake of his head, Jack headed back out of his cabin and up to the main deck. When he reached it, he saw crew members—most of whom were human—bustling around the deck, distributing a pile of packages that had been brought up on the cargo lift. Several headed belowdecks at the direction of what looked like a Brindatallian, judging by the number of arms and the iridescent scales, and others stowed their boxes on the main deck. He watched them for a moment, their movements almost choreographed in their efficiency. Clearly, they had done this before, and he found his confidence in the ship and her captain, already high, rising further.

Without his express intention, his eyes sought the captain; he found her leaning over the side of the ship, one hand on the rigging and her bottom in the air as she shouted down at someone on the dock. Jack moved to stand beside her, his presence gaining him a glance and a small smile as she continued her work.

“Mr. Yates, Mr. Johnson, please take an inventory as you stow that coal,” she called down, and Jack followed her gaze to see two Harkerians assisting four humans with a steam lift stacked high with crates. The Harkerians wore only trousers, their black skin with its lava-red vein-like markings on full display, their bare feet nimble and sure on the ship’s boards. One of them saluted the captain before leaning in to lift another load.

“Harkerians working your steam room? Inspired.” Jack murmured, and the captain glanced at him again. Harkeria was a volcanic planet with a surface temperature considerably higher than Earth’s—which would make the hard work of feeding the boilers, unpleasantly hot for a human, an almost perfect environment for these two—and its gravity was higher as well, making its denizens disproportionately strong at human gravity levels. 

The captain glanced at him, her eyebrows rising. “These two have been with me for a couple of years now. They seem to like it.”

“Yates and Johnson, you said?”

“Not their real names, of course, but Harkerian is particularly difficult for the human mouth to pronounce, so I’ve done my best.” She turned her head to look at him. “Not many people would recognize Harkerians on sight, Mr. Robinson. You have hidden depths.” 

Jack smirked at her, but didn’t rise to her bait. “There was a Harkerian in my graduating class. She was delightful, though as you said, her language was difficult. Thankfully, she spoke English well.”

“Mmm, and what did you talk about?” The captain’s eyes danced with good humor, and Jack found himself momentarily distracted. Then she blinked, her dark lashes brushing her cheeks, and he recovered.

“‘Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings,’” he quoted softly. His Harkerian friend had been a fan of human literature, and they’d shared many evenings discussing it. He returned his companion’s interested look with a bland one of his own, and inwardly smiled when her eyes dropped momentarily to his mouth.

“I see.” The captain turned her body, resting her elbow on the ship’s rail, as she eyed him. “ _The Walrus and the Carpenter,_ Mr. Robinson? Are you a scholar? That is not the type of reading most men would admit to.”

“I am many things, Captain Fisher,” he admitted, turning to face her, “and you might as well call me Jack. Anyone who recognizes Lewis Carroll is someone I’d like to call friend.”

She smiled more fully, and Jack caught his breath. 

“Then you should call me Phryne,” she replied. “Will you join me in my cabin for dinner this evening, Jack? I’d like to hear about the business that takes you to Caragnana, if you’re willing to tell me.”

“I’d be delighted, Phryne,” he answered with a small smile for the way she’d said his name, the glottal click at the end giving his very common moniker a rather interesting sound. “Shall I also invite my friend Mr. Collins, or is this an exclusive invitation?”

“Oh, I think that Mr. Collins will have an invitation of his own this evening.” Her response was a purr, and she gave him a knowing glance. “But don’t worry, Miss Williams will take good care of him, I’m sure.”

“Excellent,” Jack said, and he was certain she was correct. “I’ll look forward to dinner, then.” He forced his eyes away from her to scan the ship. “Do you think there’d be someone you could spare to give me a tour of the ship? Perhaps after we’re airborne?”

“Of course,” Phryne said. “I can hand you over to my ship’s doctor immediately, if you’d like?”

“As long as I wouldn’t be taking anyone from their duties,” he said, raising a hand, his palm open. “And I do want to see us take off.”

“That’s a sight not to be missed,” she agreed. “We have another hour or so to get the coal and other supplies loaded and do our final checks. That should be enough time for a tour.” She pushed up on her toes to look over his shoulder and spotted the crew member she was looking for. Raising her voice, she called, “Doctor, if you have a moment?” 

Jack turned to see who she was calling over; the woman was slight, and dressed in trousers and shirtsleeves, her plaid vest echoing the tones of her bright copper hair. She wore dark glasses to shield her eyes from the sun and a fedora he rather liked the look of. He might need one for himself when he returned. Striding over to meet them, she swung her arms and Jack’s eyes widened as he realized that her right hand gleamed the dull silver of mechanical skin.

“I have several moments, captain,” the woman—the doctor, he corrected himself—said, her voice crisp. “How can I help?”

“Doctor Elizabeth Macmillan, Mr. Jack Robinson,” Phryne said, gesturing gracefully to him. “Jack here would like a tour of the ship he’ll be spending the next few months traveling on. Would you be willing to take him around?” 

“I’d be happy to,” the doctor replied, tilting her sunglasses down to look at Jack over them. He blinked as her eyes came into view—the left one was a brilliant blue, but the right was a replacement, its mechanics anchored around the eye socket, and its protective lens set close to her skin. “If he’s willing to be led by one such as me.” 

“I’d consider it an honor, doctor,” Jack replied smoothly. “I’ve known others with mechanical replacement limbs, and I have nothing but admiration for the courage it requires to undergo that surgery.”

“Hurt like the devil,” she agreed mildly, a smile flirting at the corners of her mouth. “Not as badly as getting blown up did, but close.” She pushed her glasses back up, hiding the prosthetic eye. “And now I’m as good as ever—better, some days.”

Jack smiled at her, enjoying the straightforward way she addressed his reaction. That took courage as well; this doctor was no one’s fool.

“Shall we, then?” He gave her a shallow bow.

“By all means, Mr. Robinson,” she replied. “Should we start abovedecks?”

“As you like, doctor.” He turned to Phryne, who seemed a little bemused at this immediate friendship. “Thank you, captain. I will see you at launch.” Another small bow to her, which she returned before turning to walk swiftly up to the command deck. 

Jack turned to the doctor. “Lead on, MacDuff,” he said, waving a hand.

“It’s Macmillan, remember,” her voice was dry, and Jack laughed. “And you can call me Mac.”

“All right, Mac. And I’m Jack.” 

Her smile was wry as she swept out an arm in invitation, leading him across the polished wooden deck toward the main mast, where his tour began.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Phryne stood at the rail beside the helm, her posture alert but relaxed. Seamen looked to the captain for an indication of alarm, and she had no intention of giving one. Dot stood beside and slightly behind her, and they both watched calmly as the helmsman guided them away from the dock. Their two passengers had found a place in the bow to stand, and the younger man was leaning over the side of the ship to watch Melbourne shrink as they pulled away.

Once they’d reached a safe distance from shore, Phryne spoke her orders in a normal voice to her first mate. “Shields up. Hoist the sails. Engines to full. Prepare for the barrier crossing.”

“Aye, cap’n!” Dorothy repeated the orders in a shout, and the sailors scurried to obey. Phryne watched them as they crossed the deck, their trajectories intersecting without interruption or collision; when she’d taken her first voyage, it had looked like complete chaos, but now she understood the rhythms, and she could dance to them as well as any of her crew.

The force shield slid silently into place, the only indication of its presence the abrupt cessation of wind on the deck. Phryne saw Hugh Collins throw a startled glance at Jack, the younger man’s face shocked and uncertain; Jack returned the look, and the piratical smile stretching his mouth made her stomach clench with desire. She would have that man before this trip was out if she had anything to say about it. 

When the engines fired, both men looked at the deck, obviously able to feel the vibrations through their feet. The sound grew as the power ramped up, and their speed did as well. The solar sails caught, the filaments woven into them flaring with light, and the ship leaped ahead. It was difficult to tell how fast they were going without a horizon to mark against, but in no time, they’d left the surface of the planet far behind and they approached the aetheric barrier. Phryne took a deep breath, loving the scents of coal and metal and fire that her ship gave off during launch—it was the smell of _home_ to her, and she filled her lungs with it as _Lady Oddly_ reached what Phryne could tell just by feel was her top speed.

“Brace for crossing.” She said, in the same even tone, and Dot echoed the command at a shout; every sailor set their feet, and Phryne saw Jack and Collins grasp hold of the rail.

With a shimmering sizzle that became a roar, _Lady Oddly_ pushed through the crossing between air and space, fire painting across the force shield with the speed of their passing. The ship shook, every inch of this crossing a battle in miniature. Phryne had faith in her ship; she knew that they’d make it through into the calm quiet of the aether, but she could sympathize with Hugh Collins’ white face and big eyes as he held on to the rail. Jack, on the other hand, looked as energized as she felt, one hand holding fast to the rail, the other clamped onto his hat, and a grin stretching his lips as he rode the shaking deck as if he’d done it all his life. 

She watched the two men’s faces as the red and orange of the flames within the aether turned to the cool, misty blues and purples of airless space—Collins’ astonishment seemed to ease his nervousness, and Jack’s glee made her laugh out loud. No matter how many times she experienced it, this crossing filled Phryne with a joy that couldn’t be measured. It was power and freedom and control, and she loved it more than almost anything.

When the final inch of the ship emerged on the far side of the barrier, its shuddering ceased, and all of the activity that had paused began again, with seamen running to and fro, casting ropes and climbing the masts to get to where they should be for their shifts.

“Engines to half speed, Miss Williams,” Phryne said, and Dot echoed the command; half speed would get them to Caragnana in plenty of time for Jack to meet his contact, and it was much easier on the engines than full speed would be. The sound of the engines began to die off immediately, though the solar sails remained full and gleaming. “Set us on course. I’ll be in my cabin.”

“Aye, sir,” Dot responded, turning to relay the order to the navigator as Phryne moved down the stairs from the bridge. 

As Phryne moved across the deck to the stair that would take her to her cabin and the paperwork that was part of being a ship’s captain, she met Jack’s eyes. His face was flushed with excitement, and she could still see the remnants of a smile playing around his serious mouth and eyes. He raised his hand and gave her a crisp salute, and she answered it with a nod, doing her best to ignore the warm weight of his approval as she continued about her duties.

 

* * *

 

At seven o’clock sharp that evening, his skin still buzzing with the excitement of launch, Jack knocked on the door to the captain’s cabin.

Hearing her call to enter, he pushed open the door and stepped through, his eyes scanning the room. The captain’s cabin was large, and it held a rolltop desk, a round table, and a carved wooden wardrobe in addition to a bed, the concealing curtains of which were pulled back to either side. The bed itself was easily wide enough for two, covered in plush turquoise and dotted with yellow velvet pillows; its mattress was bordered by short rails that would keep her—and anyone with her—from falling out in the event of rough skies. 

Blinking, Jack looked away, focusing on the rest of the cabin. It was panelled in polished wood, warm and welcoming, and art hung on the walls. At a glance, Jack didn’t really understand some of it, but as his eyes strayed back to the bed, he noticed one small painting that hung within the curtains. It showed a nude woman, her back arched against a chaise as if offering her body up to the viewer, and it looked remarkably like a younger Phryne Fisher. The image of her nude body broke his hold on his imagination; in his mind’s eye, he saw her rising from beneath the luxurious fur throw that lay across the foot of the bed, her hair mussed and her skin flushed from lovemaking. 

“Hello, Jack,” she said, and for a moment, he was as if the vision in his mind had spoken. In the the heartbeat it took for him to realize that it was the real woman, Jack hoped as hard as he ever had that he was seeing the future. 

Jack swallowed hard, turning to face her. She held out a glass with what looked like a finger of whiskey. He took it, realizing as he did so that she’d changed her clothing. Her leather corset and bright red blouse and skirt had been exchanged for a floor-length caftan, the silken fabric of which ran in colors ranging from purple through teal and into deepest green. The deep V at its neckline drew his eyes to the swell of her breasts, and the fabric flowed around her body as she moved. He blinked as he noted that she was barefoot, the vulnerability of her toes with their bright red polish evoking an oddly tender sensation beneath his heart.

“Thank you, captain,” he said, dragging his eyes back up to hers. Why did her bare toes affect him so?

“Thank you for coming. Our dinner should be here shortly.” Phryne raised her glass to him. “To an interesting journey.” Her eyes sparkled at him, her mouth stretching in a sly smile.

Jack tilted his head at her and raised his glass, then brought it to his mouth, sipping in tandem with her. He caught his breath. He’d had whiskey before, of course, but this… Holding the glass up, his eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled the aromas of peat and smoke, and something more.

“It’s Tyrellian,” Phryne said, and he opened his eyes to find her watching him, the expression in her eyes unreadable. 

“Isn’t Tyrellian whiskey illegal to bring to Earth?” Jack knew that it was—the trade issues with Tyrel had been going on for years, and he really should confiscate it. Except that he wasn’t supposed to be a law officer here. Too bad. He hoped she’d continue to share.

“Sadly, it is,” Phryne said, turning to sit in one of the dining chairs; she waved a hand at another to invite Jack to join her. Her eyes were steady on his as she took another sip. “And if a STEEL officer were to find it, I’d be fined just for possessing it. It’s fortunate for me, I suppose, that you are undercover, inspector.”


	2. Chapter 2

Phryne watched as the word “inspector” registered and Jack froze, halfway into his chair. After a moment’s pause, he continued moving downward to sit heavily in the chair, his whiskey glass clinking against the table top.

“How did I give myself away?” His voice was serious, and she could see tension in his shoulders as he braced for her reaction. 

“You didn’t, actually,” she replied, and turned to snag the whiskey bottle from the sideboard. She leaned over to top off his glass, then poured herself some more before setting the bottle on the table. “Chief Commissioner Hart informed me of your rank.” She leaned back in her chair and sipped, her eyes on Jack. “He and I have worked together before.”

“Ah,” Jack nodded, and he relaxed back into his chair, lifting the whiskey to his lips. 

He had an excellent poker face, this inspector, and she enjoyed watching him. She’d seen his surprise in his momentary stillness, and though his body no longer showed his tension, she could see the wariness in his eyes. It was understandable—he couldn’t know how she’d react to being lied to. And if Phryne wanted to kill him, she could—there was a pistol holstered to the bottom of the table, just inches from her fingertips, and several others secreted around the room—but she didn’t see the need.

She wondered idly why the chief hadn’t told Jack she’d be aware of his real identity. An oversight, perhaps? Whatever the reason, she was glad she’d brought it up. Jack seemed like a good man, and though she had her own reasons to help him, she hoped he’d let her be of service, just the same.

“Chief Hart and I met a few years ago. He hired my previous ship to squire his wife around Europe for six months.” Phryne smiled and shook her head, crossing her legs comfortably. “Judging by the way she filled the hold, that shopping trip might have held her over for years.” She raised her whiskey glass to her lips to take another sip.

Jack smiled, appearing completely at ease now. “Oh, I think that Mrs. Hart has just kept her expeditions closer to home. She was in Sydney for a month last year, and I understand she managed to redecorate their entire home.”

Phryne laughed. “She never could resist a bargain.”

Jack tilted his head in acknowledgement at this and took a drink. The silence stretched out—more comfortably than she would have expected—for a minute or two before he spoke again.

“How much do you know about what I’m doing here?” The question was quiet but intense.

“I know that you’re to pick up a package on Caragnana—somewhere in a little town no one has heard of—and return it to Melbourne.” Phryne eyed him.

“But you don’t know the contents of the package?” Jack’s voice was steady, and he crossed one leg over the other as he watched her reactions.

“No, and I don’t care to.” Phryne threw back the last of her whiskey and set her glass down, but continued to grip it. “Unless its contents will endanger my crew, that is.”

Jack shook his head. “Have no fear of that, captain.” He drained his own glass and mirrored her posture, his hand on his empty glass as he sat facing her.

“Well, then, if you have need of my assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask,” she said, and a sly smile quirked the side of her mouth. “And if you do not, well, we can use the time between here and our destination to get to know each other better.”

Jack’s eyes warmed, though his face barely moved, and his lips curved in a small smile of his own. “I look forward to it, captain.”

Phryne leaned forward and opened her mouth to respond, prepared to say something shocking, but stopped at a rap on the door. “Enter,” she called instead, relaxing back into her chair, her head turning toward the door. 

When it swung open, her cabin girl, Jane, slipped in. Phryne saw the girl’s golden, slit-pupiled eyes glance over Jack and her tufted ears flick warily backward; her long, tabby-striped tail waved gently as she moved. The tray she carried appeared large and unwieldy—certainly as if it should have been heavier than someone her size could manage—but she handled it with ease. 

“Your dinner, cap’n,” Jane said, moving up behind Phryne to reach the table. 

“Thank you, Jane,” Phryne replied with a smile.

Watching Jane work, she glanced over at Jack, who’d frozen again, his eyes widening slightly as they rested on the girl. Phryne tilted her head and his gaze moved to meet hers; she narrowed her eyes, daring him to say anything. He nodded, the slightest of movements.

In short order, Jane had laid out three covered dishes and the necessary flatware. Tray held at her side, she moved to stand beside Phryne.

“Will there be anything else, cap’n?” Her voice was sweet, and her tail twitched as she met Phryne’s eyes. Phryne suppressed a smile; that twitch told her that Jane had seen Jack’s reaction too, and she was ready to prove herself capable.

“No, thank you, Jane,” she responded calmly, quirking an eyebrow at the girl in a way she knew Jane would read as “not to worry.” Jane had handled bigger men than Jack Robinson—Ligaarn warrior blood ran true in this girl—but the results had been messy, and Phryne had plans for Jack that didn’t include him spending the month in Mac’s infirmary.

Jane gave a sharp nod, her small whiskers twitching, and turned to go, letting the door click softly closed behind her. Phryne didn’t doubt that she’d be listening at the door, at least for a little while, her sensitive ear pressed to the wood.

“Let’s see what Mr. Butler has prepared for us this evening, shall we?” Phryne’s voice was bright as she set a plate in front of Jack and removed the lid. “Hmmm, lovely,” she murmured, when a lamb steak was revealed, alongside piles of roasted potatoes and crisp asparagus.

“Phryne, that girl…” Jack’s voice was barely a murmur.

“Jane? What about her?” There was a nonchalance in Phryne’s voice that was balanced by warning.

She thought she knew what he would say, something about how Ligaarn were generally thought to be very dangerous. And as the vast majority of those who had ventured out into the wider universe were hot-headed and ready to fight at a moment’s notice, they’d come by that reputation fairly. Like any race, however, Ligaarn had many temperaments and preferences, and it irritated Phryne when society tarred an entire people with the same brush. She braced herself to rebut whatever his argument might be. Jane was hers, and Phryne wouldn’t hear any prejudice against her.

“She’s so young,” Jack replied. “Don’t Ligaarn usually stay with their family units until they reach their majority?”

Phryne looked at him, her preparatory indignation deflating as she realized that he wasn’t about to lecture her on the error of her ways. 

“You are full of surprises, inspector,” she murmured. “They do, yes,” she went on in a more normal tone as she pulled her plate toward her and lifted off the lid to take a deep breath of the fragrant meal. Setting the lid aside, she laid her napkin on her lap and picked up her utensils, her voice matter-of-fact. “I found Jane at a research outpost on one of Ligaar’s moons, where all of the adults had been killed by some sort of plague. She was the only survivor; she’d been living alone in that place for who knows how long, and it was weeks before she’d even attempt to communicate. I’ve searched for her family but haven’t been able to find any, so she’s stayed with me.”

“And the council allowed that?” Jack picked up his own napkin, placing it it in his lap, his eyes on Phryne.

It was a reasonable question. The High Council of Ligaar was known for its insularity. “Well,” Phryne said, reaching for the whiskey, “I didn’t actually give them the chance to object.” She smiled wickedly as she refilled Jack’s glass, then her own.

Jack shook his head, but she saw the corners of his mouth twitch in what might have been a smile. “And her name? ‘Jane’ isn’t a typical Ligaarn moniker.”

“I used to read to her when she first came to me, hoping that if she didn’t understand English, it would help her learn. Her Ligaarn name was in the records of the station, but she would react… negatively when we used it, so we just used endearments.” She took a sip of her drink, remembering, then shook her head and set her glass down before picking up her fork. “When she did finally speak to me, we had just finished Jane Eyre, and I was putting her to bed. ‘Come now, kitten,’ I said, and she—clear as day—said ‘I’m not kitten, I’m Jane.’” Phryne shrugged. “She’s been Jane ever since.”

Jack raised his eyebrows as he cut into his steak. “You are a wonder, Captain Fisher.” 

She cocked her head at him as she stabbed a potato with her fork. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should,” Jack replied, dipping his head in a respectful nod before placing the bite into his mouth.

Beginning to chew, he moaned low in his throat and his eyes fluttered closed. Phryne froze with her own bite halfway to her mouth, the pure sensuality of the sound resonating through her. She felt desire fist in her stomach and her nipples pebbled beneath the silk of her caftan. Licking her lips, she made herself move again, setting the fork down and reaching for her drink. Perhaps the inspector hadn’t had access to this level of cuisine, perhaps he’d never had lamb; whatever the reason for his reaction, Phryne determined in that moment that she’d hear him make that sound again, but with his mouth on her skin.

“You sound as if this meal is a special one, Jack.” Phryne took a drink, then lifted her fork again. “No one at home cooking for you, then?”

Jack opened his eyes, swallowing the bite and filling his fork with a second. “No, I live alone.” He took another bite, a soft _hmmm_ of contentment escaping him again.

“No sweetheart, no wife? That’s surprising for a man of your rank.” Phryne licked her lips again and was pleased to see his eyes follow the motion of her tongue before they darted back up to hers. He clearly was feeling some of the same attraction she was. That was good. The next several weeks could be very pleasurable for the both of them.

“I was. Married, that is.” Jack grimaced a little as he chose his next bite. “My wife died. Influenza.” He chewed this one without appreciative noises, and Phryne wished she hadn’t asked.

“Oh, I _am_ sorry,” she said softly.

“It was a long time ago.” He shrugged slightly, obviously intending her to understand that it was no longer a pain that lingered. His poker face was just as good as it had been earlier, but something told her he wasn’t as indifferent as he pretended to be.

“Children?” She asked the question as casually as she could, before placing a bite into her mouth.

“No, we were never blessed.” He smiled slightly as he lifted his fork yet again. “Is this an interrogation, captain?”

Phryne smiled, a sly curve to her lips, and set her elbows on the table, leaning toward him. “Only in the widest sense, Jack.” Her eyes dropped to his mouth as he opened it to wrap his lips around his fork, sliding the tines out slowly, his jaw muscles clenching as he ate. “I’m trying to ascertain whether you’re free to join me in my bed.”

 

* * *

 

Jack licked his lips and swallowed, his eyes on her. When his tongue came out, her mouth opened slightly, and the sight seemed to go straight to his gut. His cock hardened and he set down his fork, propping one hand on his hip.

“Are you now?” He smiled slightly, and her eyes lifted to his.

She closed her mouth, one eyebrow rising in question. “I always think it’s best to be up-front about these things, don’t you?”

“I have never had a woman be quite so up-front with me, captain, I’ll admit.” His smile grew and he leaned over, grasping the leg of her chair and pulling her slowly toward him. The squeak of wood against wood rang loudly in the room, and he saw her catch her breath, watched her legs, demurely crossed at the ankles, lift to allow the movement, though the rest of her body remained still. Her eyes fluttered softly as he brought her close but didn’t touch her. His mouth hovering above hers, he rasped, “I rather like it,” and kissed her.

Her flavor exploded across Jack’s tongue much like the lamb’s had—sweet and spicy at once, with an undertone of Tyrellian whiskey. With a groan, he slanted his mouth over hers, wanting more, and she responded, her tongue sliding between his lips, one hand rising to wrap around his lapel. Jack lifted his own hand to slide into her hair as he devoured her, and time seemed to slow.

_This is what I’ve been waiting for._ The thought made Jack lift his head, though not far, his eyes searching hers. Waiting? He hadn’t been waiting for anything—since his wife died, he’d had several short-term affairs. He’d been enjoying himself, hadn’t he? He didn’t need or want a love affair—those were far too painful when they ended. He dismissed the thought as he watched her eyes open, her pupils wide and dark as a slow, sweet smile stretched her lips.

“Well, well, well, inspector,” she purred, rolling her head slightly as his fingers kneaded the back of her skull, her fisted hand on his lapel loosening. “I look forward to more of that.”

Jack let his hand slide down to cup her jaw, his eyes following his thumb as it brushed across her lips, slightly swollen from the pressure of his own. “I think this trip will be more of an adventure than I originally contemplated,” he murmured. Meeting her eyes again, he smiled fully. “Fantastic.”

Phryne laughed, pulling away to sit up at the table again. “First, though, we must do justice to Mr. Butler’s excellent meal or he’ll want to know the reason why.”

“I think I can cope with that,” Jack replied wryly, resettling himself and drawing his napkin more securely across his lap, his eyes laughing as he adjusted it to cover as much as possible of his arousal. 

Phryne reached for a piece of asparagus, taking it between her fingers and biting its head off with a snap of her teeth. Grinning, Jack followed suit, and they ate heartily, conversation flowing easily between them.

When they’d finished both the main course and the slices of a rich chocolate cake that had proved to be waiting under the third dome, Jack was pleasantly full. He had not starved since his wife had passed, but he was not nearly the cook that Phryne’s Mr. Butler was. 

“That was delicious, captain. Mr. Butler is very skilled.” The ship’s cook and quartermaster was the Brindatallian that Jack had seen on deck; Jack had met him during his tour of the ship with the doctor. This captain had a knack for finding the right job for her people—Brindatallians had multiple arms and the capacity to use them all independently, a fact that would make cooking for a crew this size easier. They were also known for their sharp intellect, which would make him invaluable as the ship’s quartermaster, in charge of all of the supplies and the crew’s pay.

“He’ll be pleased to hear that you enjoyed it. He enjoys cooking—he told me once that he took cooking classes in Paris when he was younger, at _le Cordon Bleu_.” 

Phryne swirled the whiskey in her glass and lounged in her chair, watching him, and Jack felt the weight of her gaze and her expectations. His arousal was building again, but more slowly now, as if his body knew that he didn’t need to rush. He sat back too, his legs stretching out to either side of hers, his elbow resting on the table as he held his own glass.

“That explains his skill. He must work hard to manage the varying nutritional needs of the crew.” He lifted his whiskey to his lips, inhaling the rich scent. “Humans, Harkerians, Ligaarn, Brindatallian—each one with different requirements.”

“He is very good at his job, inspector,” she replied, her voice soft but with an undertone of steel. “It’s why he is still employed in it.” 

Jack blinked at the matter-of-fact statement. This was probably part of what made her a good leader—her crew knew what her expectations were and knew that they were reasonable. If those expectations weren’t met, they would find themselves shuffled off to another task or another ship without hesitation.

At that moment, a soft knock came at the door. “Enter!” Phryne called, lifting her glass to her lips, her eyes on Jack. He hoped that the intentions he read in them were as carnal as they seemed.

“May I clear the table now, cap’n?” Jane’s sweet voice skimmed along the tension that had been building between them, and Jack shifted, sitting up slightly and tucking his legs under the table in hopes of hiding the evidence of his arousal.

“Thank you, yes, Jane.” Phryne smoothed a hand down the front of her caftan, and Jack found himself following the motion. The silk was thin, leaving very little to the imagination. Jack drew in a deep breath through his nose. Just because her nipples were hard didn’t mean that she intended to take him to her bed this evening. He needed to be a gentleman—control himself and let her take the lead.

With a nod, Jane entered, tray in hand. Her eyes darting over Jack, she stepped up behind Phryne again. Jack wondered whether she was afraid of him; he hoped not, but that was a problem for another day. Without a word, Jane swiftly and efficiently piled the dirty dishes onto her tray and turned for the door.

“Thank you, Jane,” Jack said quietly. “Please give Mr. Butler my compliments—I will do it in person tomorrow, but like many things in the kitchen, they’re better when they’re fresh.”

Jane turned to him, surprise in her face as she met his gaze. Jack let the corners of his mouth rise up in what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She seemed to find it so; her own mouth turned up in a small smile that bared her sharp incisors.

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a nod. “Is there anything else, cap’n?” She turned to Phryne and waited.

“Thank you, Jane, that will be all.” Phryne’s voice was quiet, and Jack watched as Jane’s ears twitched and her tail swished before she moved out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Who was this man? Jane’s nonverbal cues indicated that she was beginning to like him, and her ward was no one’s fool. Phryne had assumed that, like many men of his profession, he would be prejudiced against nonhumans, but he did not seem to be so. He was a study in contrasts, with his buttoned-up appearance and his passionate kiss; she’d discovered as they talked that his mind was sharp and his observations astute. Add in his handsome face and strong body and he was an enigma that she wanted to explore.

When the door clicked shut behind Jane, Jack turned his eyes back to Phryne. Finding her watching him, he raised his eyebrows and lifted his whiskey glass to take the last swallow.

“You interest me, Jack Robinson,” she said quietly. “I cannot predict you.” 

“It would not do to be dull, Captain Fisher,” he replied, setting his glass quietly on the table before turning his chair to face her, his body relaxing into it. He sat sprawled, as many men were wont to do, his knees spread wide. A glance down his body told Phryne that he’d been as affected by their earlier kiss as she had, and the size of the bulge in his trousers was promising, to say the least.

“My sentiments exactly.” Quaffing the last of her own whiskey, Phryne set her glass down with a sharp click. It was time to get both of them more comfortable—or on the road to comfort, with all of the excitement that entailed.

Standing, she held out her hand. Jack took it, his fingers warm and slightly rough, and rose from his chair to face her. They stood close enough that his chest was a mere inch from her own as he looked down at her. She didn’t step back, and neither did he. He smelled lightly of coal smoke and warm sunshine, plus something else that made her want to bury her nose in his neck and just breathe. She shook off that whimsy quickly. No man made her want to just breathe him in.

“What now, captain?” His eyes searched hers, and his voice rumbled pleasingly through the air. He breathed in deeply, but didn’t crowd her or make assumptions. Intriguing.

“Now I think, inspector, a feast of a different kind.” Keeping her eyes on his, she pushed up on her toes to brush her mouth over his, once, twice—featherlight touches that nonetheless made her lips tingle with anticipation. She paused, hearing Jack’s breath catch in his throat, and watched his eyes close as she slid her hands up and around his neck before she sealed her mouth to his. 

Jack took her kiss and returned it, wrapping his arms around her back, the callouses on his fingers rasping against the silk of her caftan. Her hands rose to tangle in his hair, her tongue sliding into his mouth to taste him, whiskey and chocolate and man. With a groan, he slid a hand down to cup her bottom and press her against his pelvis; his hardened cock pushed strongly against her belly, and heat grew between Phryne’s legs in response. 

After a moment, his other hand moved up her side to cover her breast, cupping its underside on his palm and taking her hardened nipple between long fingers. Abruptly, he pulled his mouth away, and he opened his eyes to look down at his hand. Making a low noise in the back of his throat, he dipped his head and wrapped his mouth around her nipple, his tongue sliding against it and dragging the silk of her caftan along. The sensation was exquisite, and Phryne arched backward, her fingers tightening in his hair as she reveled in it.

She felt him lift his head and forced her eyes open to see what he’d do next; for a moment, Jack seemed to consider the wet circle he’d left, his thumb sweeping across her nipple as he watched the silk adhere to and release her skin. With a growl, he tilted his head to cover her other breast with his mouth, his thumb still working its magic. The rush of moisture between her legs made Phryne moan, and she slid her hands to his collar, pulling at his tie and, when it was undone, beginning on his buttons. She wanted her hands on his skin, wanted his hands and his mouth on her.

As if he heard her thought, Jack slid his hands to the small of her back, taking handfuls of her caftan and pulling them upward until his fingertips touched her skin. He cupped her bare bottom, and she couldn’t help noting how completely his big hands covered her. He squeezed softly, then slid his hands down to grasp the tops of her thighs from behind. Phryne gasped as his fingers skimmed over her sex, its humid heat certainly tangible, but he didn’t touch her directly. Instead, he straightened, lifting her off the floor; she fisted her hands in his collar, holding on, then dipped her head to kiss him again as he took the three strides to her bed.

Setting her gently on its edge, Jack pulled back from her kiss as he gathered up the sides of her caftan again; when he had enough to hold, he paused and met her eyes, asking permission. Phryne nodded encouragement, and a smile tweaked his serious mouth as he swiftly pulled the garment over her head, leaving her nude. She smiled at the stillness that overcame him as he looked at her body; she’d purposely worn no underthings in hopes that the evening would end this way, and the fire in his eyes warmed her through.

 

* * *

 

“Oh god, you are exquisite.” The words fell from Jack’s mouth almost without his volition. 

She was, and her smirk admitted that she knew it; she sat unashamedly naked before him, her breasts pointed with arousal, the black hair between her thighs glistening with the moisture of desire. He lowered his head to her breasts again, happy to have them naked in his mouth. Her flavor was stronger there, in the pebbled texture of her nipples, and he couldn’t wait to get more of it still.

“Yes,” she whispered as he pressed her backward against the pillows, his knees on the floor. 

Unable to tear his eyes away from the sight before him, Jack slid his hand behind her knee, opening her up. Her sex was beautiful, pink and plump and dripping, and he fell upon her as if he was a starving man. 

As if from a distance, he heard himself moaning with enjoyment as he used his mouth on her, and Phryne laughed, high and breathless. Her hands burrowed back into his hair, and he used his tongue to drive her further, sliding it deep inside her body. When she gasped, he shifted and brought his fingers into play, his mouth moving to work her clit as he pumped first one, then two fingers back and forth along her sensitive tissues. Her thighs shook against his ears, muffling her pleasured cries as he drowned himself in her; in what felt simultaneously like forever and no time at all, she shattered, her passage contracting around his fingers, and a rush of renewed moisture bursting against his tongue. Despite the pressure in his cock, he remained in place, lapping gently at her, while she came back to herself; when he finally straightened, it was to see her lying boneless against her bed, her mouth open and smiling and her eyes soft.

His eyes never leaving her—the sight of her, replete, was an enticement in itself—Jack sat up on his knees and grasped his cock where it stood hard and long within the confinement of his trousers. His fist felt amazing after so long without stimulation, and he began to move it up and down his length. Phryne’s head rolled languidly to follow his movements, and she drew a deep breath.

“Let me,” she purred, and she rolled to lie on her stomach, leaning over the edge of the bed, her back a graceful curve that led to the rise of her buttocks. Surprised, Jack made way for her hands, and she made short work of his trouser fastenings before reaching in to draw him out into the light. “Ohhh, look at this beauty,” she murmured, before her hands began to move.

She pulled one hand strongly up from his root to his tip, where beads of moisture had already gathered, and her other slid down to cup his testicles, clever fingers slipping between his legs to caress the sensitive strip of skin there. Jack watched her, unable to look away as she explored him, her strokes varying in strength and speed until his hands, which had been limp at his sides, pressed flat against the floor to let him thrust helplessly into the cage of her fingers. 

“I’m… I’m close,” he panted, and he shifted to take his handkerchief out of his trouser pocket. 

Phryne continued to work him, both hands on his shaft now, and the soft clicking of the moisture she’d culled from his tip and spread along his length was the only sound in the room aside from his harsh breaths. Her face was a study in concentration, and her small pink tongue poked out from between her lips as she found all of the places that pleased him the most. 

“Next time,” she said, dipping one hand back under his testicles as she laid the palm of the other against his tip, first rotating and then squeezing lightly, “I will take you in my mouth and let you spend there.” She glanced up at Jack’s face, and what she saw there must have pleased her, because she smiled, her hand twisting just so.

With a shout, Jack pulled away from her hands and came, barely covering himself with the handkerchief before his seed pumped out all over his clothing. When he could see again, he lifted his eyes to her face. She’d crossed those wickedly talented hands beneath her chin on the edge of the bed, and a satisfied smile tilted her lips.

Jack shook his head and smiled back at her as the pleasure of release flooded his muscles. After a few moments, he gathered up his soiled handkerchief and tucked himself away, then leaned in to kiss her deeply. 

“Thank you for a wonderful evening, captain,” he murmured, getting to his feet.

“You’re most welcome, inspector,” she replied, rolling to her back to watch him tidy himself in the small mirror beside her door, unselfconscious in her nakedness. “Perhaps we can continue this entertainment tomorrow evening?”

“I’d like that very much,” he responded, meeting her eyes in the reflection. 

“Good.” She stretched, her body lithe and flexible. “Until tomorrow, then.”

“Good night, captain.” His lips quirked as he opened the cabin door, glancing back at her. She had rolled to her side, her hands folded beneath her cheek, her legs bent. 

Suddenly, Jack wanted to strip off his stuffy suit and join her in that bed, curling around her body and falling asleep with her breathing soft in his ears. Shaken by the thought, he tilted his head and gave her a small nod as he showed himself out. 

 

* * *

 

When the door clicked closed behind Jack, Phryne sighed and rose heavily from her bed. She retrieved her caftan from the floor and pulled it over her head, then moved to a system of pulleys that were set up beside the desk. Selecting one in particular, she pulled it gently, knowing that the bell attached to the other end would ring in the appropriate cabin, summoning its inhabitant to attend her.

The knock on her door came a few minutes later, and Phryne called a soft command to enter. She had been attempting to fill out her log for the day, but her mind kept drifting back to her bed and the pleasure Jack had brought her. Her limbs were still weighty with release, and she felt a different weight in her belly that she thought might be regret. Still, what had to be done had to be done. She turned to face her quartermaster, who was quietly closing the door.

“You called for me, captain?” 

Mr. Butler—he’d chosen the name himself—was soft-spoken, a fact that seemed at odds with his fearsome appearance. He stood almost seven feet tall, and his six arms, currently folded behind him, were heavily muscled. His white shirt and gray trousers were covered by an apron that fastened to a button at the center of his chest, clothing that would have looked unremarkable if it weren’t for the extra arms and the fact that his knees bent backward like an insect’s. He wore no shoes to cover his long feet, and he held their clawed tips retracted so as not to damage the flooring. The iridescent scales that covered all of his exposed flesh were beautiful in the light; just now, they shimmered a cool blue.

“I did, Mr. B.” Phryne sighed again, hoping that they could do this with Jack none the wiser, but planning to take as much pleasure from him as possible before matters came to a head. “We need to talk about what we’ll do once our guest has retrieved those plans.”

Mr. Butler nodded, his eyes warm with understanding. “Of course. Tell me how I can be of service.” 


	3. Chapter 3

What followed for Jack were four weeks of what felt more like a vacation than he’d had in years. He had no way to contact his superiors until they reached Caragnana, and so he spent his time learning the rhythms of ship life. His days were mostly passed in idle pursuits, playing board games or card games in the officer’s mess, often with Dr. Macmillan, who won entirely too often for him to believe it was completely luck. At other times, he would find a place on deck to read or watch the sailors go about their work. 

Occasionally, Collins would join him. The young constable was a good man, and Jack found himself enjoying his company more than he’d expected. The romance between Collins and the ship’s first mate was apparently going very well; the boy smiled shyly whenever his sweetheart came near, and Jack could tell from their body language that they were comfortable in each other’s presence. 

Jack wondered if he looked similarly besotted when Phryne came to stand or sit beside him. He looked forward to those times; she was an excellent conversationalist, their talks ranging in subject from literary to political and beyond, rarely touching on the same thing twice. They fenced with words in a way that stimulated his mind and his body, and the subtle teasing inevitably led to nights of passion in Phryne’s bed. 

Jack found himself anticipating those nights like an addict—the feel of her skin, the sounds she made when she shattered, the scent of her breath as she kissed him—counting the moments until he could be with her again. And each night, it became harder and harder for Jack to leave when they were spent; more and more, he wanted to fall asleep with her in his arms and wake to make love to her again. Though he lingered longer every time, he always forced himself to end the night in his own bed, and she never asked him to stay. 

As the days passed, he discovered—somewhat to his surprise, given his previous experience—that interstellar travel on her ship was nearly as intoxicating as she was. They’d sped along, pushed faster than his mind could take in by her Odysseus drive, and he would have thought there’d be nothing to see but smears of light. Not so, however. The tunnels through space that the ship took advantage of to create shortcuts between planets were used by other ships, many of which did not originate on earth; they were also inhabited by animals that seemed impossible—Jack was amazed that there could be living beings in the vastness of space. They passed pods of what looked like giant, sightless whales that seemed to navigate using sound, and clouds of smaller—but still nearly twice the length of _Lady Oddly_ —lizard-like creatures that his mind insisted must be dragons. 

Once, as he and Collins stood at the rail, he saw the edge of what looked like a huge gray disc. Just as he was turning to remark on it, the lookout whistled an intricate melody and the crew stilled for a moment before rushing about in a kind of controlled chaos. In less than five minutes, they’d furled the sails, shut down the engine, and turned off all the lights. Jack and Hugh looked at each other, both unsure of what was happening until, at a word from the captain, Doctor Macmillan crossed the deck to them.

“I can’t explain in detail now, but you both need to remain _entirely silent_ until the captain gives the all clear.” Her face was serious, and Jack could see that she was frightened. “You are welcome to stay on deck or go below, but wherever you are on the ship, I cannot emphasize enough that you are to make no noise whatsoever. Do you understand?”

The two men exchanged a glance and nodded silently to show their understanding, and Mac gave a sharp nod before heading back to Phryne’s side. Jack looked to Hugh and pointed a finger at the deck where they stood; Hugh answered with a nod. They would stay here, where at least they could see what was happening. 

It had seemed to take hours to sail beneath the thing; as it approached, Jack could see that it was taller than _Lady Oddly_ ’smainmast, and its diameter was at least four times the length of the ship. As it went by, he was mesmerized by the way the edges of its body gently undulated as it appeared to swim through the icy nothingness of space, but when its enormous round mouth came into view, he shuddered to see that not only could it have fit half the ship in one bite, it was filled with row after row of razored teeth.

He’d approached Phryne after they’d left it far behind; she’d waited a good long time to give the all clear, along with an order to raise the solar sails, and even then, she winced as the sails filled with a _whoof_ of canvas.

“What was that?” 

She turned toward him, and his stomach dropped. Her face was pale and she looked like she might vomit, but she stood her ground, solid and strong.

“Phryne?” Jack stepped closer, wanting to grasp her arms and pull her close, but unwilling to do anything that would undermine either her control or her crew’s belief in her invincibility.

“I’ve heard it called a shipbreaker,” she responded with a shudder. “That was only the second one I’ve ever seen, and though the first one was bigger, that one would have made a meal out of this ship and all the souls on it without even stopping to chew.”

“Wait, the other was _bigger_?” Jack’s jaw opened in surprise. 

“Oh yes,” Phryne confirmed. She swallowed hard, wiped her brow, and seemed to steel herself. Holding up a hand to Jack, one finger raised, she leaned over to a brass pipe topped by a conical mouthpiece and shouted, “Start the engines, Mr. Yates!” Jack heard a tiny, tinny “Aye, cap’n!” in response, and almost immediately felt the vibrations in the deck that signaled the engines’ firing.

Phryne nodded to Miss Williams, who was manning the ship’s wheel. “Without the sails, we’ve drifted. Let’s get back on course, Dot.”

“Aye, captain!” The response was quick and sure, and Miss Williams spun the wheel to adjust their heading. 

Orders given, Phryne tilted her head to indicate that Jack should walk with her away from the bustle to the rear corner of the bridge, where she leaned back against the rail. “The last one of those I saw chewed its way through a pilgrimage to Amaranth that was guarded by a Marnellite flotilla—thirty ships, at least, to begin with. No more than three made it away, and all hands lost with the ships it ate.”

Jack swallowed, horror seeping through him. Marnellites were the galaxy’s mercenaries, usually hired as protection. They specialized in warfare, and anything that could get through an entire flotilla was more dangerous than he could really wrap his head around.

With a glance up at Jack, she sighed. “I was on one of those three. My parents and sister were… not so fortunate.”

“Oh, Phryne…” Jack’s voice was soft. And yet she’d gone on to make a career of sailing between worlds. Her bravery was astounding, and yet he wished he could wrap his arm around her, to shoulder some of the burden those memories obviously held. He blinked, the impulse not one he’d expected, and he had to consider whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he was beginning to care for her this much.

She shook her head. “It was a long time ago, Jack.” With a deep breath, she straightened, back in control. “Shipbreakers, I learned, are attracted to sound—where the whales emit sounds to find their way, shipbreakers are drawn to it. Thankfully, they’re rare.” She looked over at him, her eyes amused. “You’re lucky to have seen one.”

“Hm,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Some kind of luck I can do without, captain.”

Her smile was small, but it was a smile, and he counted that a win. 

 

* * *

 

Phryne looked up at Jack. How lovely that he’d try to cheer her up. “We’ll be at Caragnana tomorrow,” she said, her voice casual. “And we’ll have to stay at least a couple of days to resupply. I was thinking…”

Jack looked at her, tilting his head as if he thought she had something illicit in mind. Which she did, though it likely wasn’t what he thought. She felt a pang of remorse, but her course was set. She couldn’t change it now.

“What if we were to take a room at a hotel while we’re in port?”

“I need to meet my contact, but otherwise, I have no pressing obligations.” Jack’s smile was small, and the warmth of his eyes told her that he was thinking of what they could do in a hotel-room bed where they didn’t have to listen for the watch bells or be on call for anything at all.

“Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements.” She smiled up at him, feeling on an even keel again. She might have nightmares about her family’s deaths tonight, but that was something she’d deal with later. “Ah, I don’t know if I’ve said—there’s a safe set in the wall of your cabin. It has a mechanism that allows the combination to be easily reset; if you’d like to use it, I’ll show you how.”

“Thank you, that would be very helpful.” 

“I wouldn’t want you to be distracted by anything while we’re at the hotel, Jack.” She made her voice low and meaningful; she could tell that he understood her by the way his weight shifted slightly and he blinked, slow and easy. Jack’s reactions were so subtle, she found herself watching him closely whenever she could; she’d learned to read him, and this was arousal.

“Oh, I’d bet I’ll be plenty distracted, captain,” he said, his voice a velvety stroke across her skin. 

Phryne smiled at him, slow and wicked, her eyes flicking down over the length of his body. “I should have said that I don’t want anything to distract you from pleasuring me.” The small smile that crossed his face turned his lips downward before they tilted up, and she felt her own arousal deepen.

“Whenever you’re free,” he said softly, his voice a warm rumble, “I’d love for you to show me that safe.” He dropped his eyes to her chest, and she could almost feel his touch. “After all that excitement, I think I might go take a short rest in my cabin.”

“Of course,” she said, and he sketched a short bow, his eyes never leaving hers, before heading belowdecks, his stride confident and his shoulders straight. The way he moved made her mouth water and conjured visions of what he looked like as he rose above her, his flesh moving inside hers.

Phryne considered, her pulse spiking. There had been promise in his tone, and gods knew her tensions were still running high after their near escape. The ship was back to humming along in its usual fashion, and she thought that she wouldn’t be missed if she were to also take a short rest.

“Dot,” she said, turning to face her first mate, “I need to go update my log. You have the helm.”

“Aye, captain,” Miss Williams said, and Phryne knew by the twinkle in her eye that Dot wasn’t fooled.

Without looking back, Phryne strode away, down to where she was certain Jack was waiting even now for her to distract him.

 

* * *

 

Jack lay on his bunk, one arm curled up under his head, his shirt unbuttoned and his trousers open as he stroked himself. He thought Phryne was likely to join him, but even if she didn’t, their banter had left him hard and wanting. He imagined her as his hand moved over his flesh; he loved it when she rose above him, breasts bouncing and hips writhing, his cock appearing and disappearing between her thighs. Licking his lips, he arched his back, his eyes fluttering closed.

When the door of his cabin opened and she appeared, it was almost as if he’d conjured her. His hand didn’t slow as she studied him, closing the door and leaning against it to watch him, even as she reached under her wide skirts to tug her knickers off and over her boots.

“You started without me, Jack,” she accused mildly, tossing the knickers aside and striding over to climb onto the bed, her skirts fisted in her hands.

“You took too long,” he ground out, his attention fixed on the place between her thighs that she now centered over his aching flesh. She still wore her leather corset, but today’s skirt and blouse were a brilliant blue that made her eyes glow. He pulled the hand out from under his head and untied the bow at her neckline, then hooked his fingers into her corset beneath her blouse, searching for her nipple.

“Well, I likely won’t take long now,” she gasped, impaling herself on his turgid flesh all in one stroke. 

They both groaned as he filled her, and Jack slid the hand he’d been using to masturbate up to encircle her hip, his thumb pressing against her clit. She held still for a long moment before dropping her skirts around them and leaning forward to kiss him, her mouth avid on his. Jack closed his eyes, relishing the taste of her and the warm weight and pressure of her body around and above him. Her mouth still on his, she began to move, her hips circling and rising as she used his cock to massage herself from the inside.

Soon, she had to sit up, needing the thrusting power she could get from above. She rested her palms on his chest, her eyes closing and her head falling back as she fucked him. Jack’s fingers stayed busy, one hand working her nipples within her corset, the other sliding in the moisture between her legs. He watched her face as she pleasured herself, loving the flush of her cheeks and the way she took her lower lip between her teeth in concentration. 

Her breasts bounced with her movements, and he watched as her nipples played peek-a-boo with the edge of her blouse. Tightening his stomach muscles, he sat up and dragged his tongue along the inner edge of her blouse until her nipple—sweet as a berry—found its way into his mouth. She slid her hands up to take fistfuls of his hair, holding him to her as he suckled. 

Feeling his climax building, he moved the hand between her legs, pressing the heel against her clit and sliding his fingers along the edge of her opening, intending to help her along. The sensation of his cock moving into her body, however, proved his undoing. With a shout that he muffled against her breast, he rolled her to her back and pulled himself out to spend against her hip. When his shuddering ceased, he replaced his cock with his fingers, using the force of his arm to make up for the length she would miss. In moments, Phryne was stiffening too, her passage clutching at his hand and her muscles shaking as she came.

Withdrawing his fingers, Jack rested his head against her breast, waiting for their breathing to even out. She smelled of perfume and sweat, and he inhaled greedily. 

“Goodness, Jack,” she said, her voice threaded with laughter, “that was an excellent rest.”

“I’m happy to oblige, captain,” he said, turning to press a soft kiss to the soft skin beneath his cheek. “I found it rather refreshing myself.” Lifting his head, he smiled at her. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

When she nodded, he rolled off of her, and moved into the washroom to wet a flannel and bring it back. Gently, he cleaned her up, then himself, and they shared a satisfied smile as each straightened their clothing. 

 

* * *

 

Her blouse and corsets back in order, Phryne stood to fetch her knickers; she stepped into them and pulled them up, smoothing her skirts down neatly. It had surprised her to open the door to Jack tugging himself off, though it probably shouldn’t have. She’d learned over the past month that he was a hedonist under his staid clothing—food and sex were two of his favorite things, and she was happy to provide both. The pleasure he took in the former was endearing, and when it came to the latter, his aim was to bring her to climax as many times as he could. Dear man. She hoped that he wouldn’t hate her when this was over.

“Shall I show you that safe, then?” Her voice was light, and she felt a squeeze around her heart when he smiled at her.

“You mean there really is one? I thought that was just an excuse to get into my quarters.” 

Phryne laughed, then stepped close to slip her hands around his waist. “Oh, darling, I don’t need an excuse to get into your quarters. I’d think you would know that by now.” She stroked both hands downward, over his bottom, and gave him a firm squeeze before stepping past him.

“God, I just had you…” she thought she heard him murmur, and she threw him a pleased glance over her shoulder to see him adjusting his trousers.

“The safe is here.” She reached out to lift the corner of the painting that hung to the right of the tea cupboard. It depicted an underwater scene in which bright fish swam through the broken-hulled skeleton of a sailing ship. 

“There’s a catch, you see?” 

She pointed at the small lever that released a hook holding the frame to the wall. At Jack’s nod, she triggered it, and the frame swung outward, coming to rest against the outer wall. Behind it, set into the wall, was a safe, its dull gray finish inset with whorls of brass and shiny chrome that were reminiscent of waves. Set in the left side of the door were two vertical rows of five round buttons, each one showing a number from zero to one; beneath them was an ornate handle, its brass-and-chrome decorations resembling small fish that chased each other along its length.

“I reset the combination recently,” Phryne said, punching in a series of four zeroes, then grasping the handle and giving it a hard downward yank. The door swung open, revealing a space about a foot square, and perhaps a little deeper. “The reset button is on the inside, here.” She pointed to a button. “Just hold this while you punch in the code you want to use on the main keypad.”

Jack stepped up to examine the mechanism. “Ingenious,” he murmured. 

“Please just leave it open when you’re finished using it,” Phryne said, as she watched him. She felt a strange, wobbly sensation in her stomach at the thought of deceiving him. Stepping close, she laid a hand on his arm and rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to go do my log entry about that shipbreaker. I’ll see you tonight?”

“I look forward to it,” he replied, glancing up with a smile. With a squeeze of his arm, she left him, doing her best to ignore the tightness around her heart.

 

* * *

 

Caragnana was a fascinating place, its land masses long and thin; from space, the narrow stripes of green land and blue water whorled together to look almost like a fingerprint across the roundness of the world. Jack amused himself as they approached the aetheric barrier, thinking of the size of the marble player who’d leave that mark.

As the force shield came down, Jack shrugged into his jacket; he’d forgotten, in the controlled temperature inside the shield, just how cold flying through air could be. The ship approached its dock quickly, its coal-fired engines pushing it smoothly along through the clouds and down to the city of Breetet, a small port in the planet’s northern hemisphere. As they came closer, Jack examined the town. Because the land masses were so narrow, almost every building was on the water, and they made use of every inch of land; the buildings sat a good six to eight feet above the ground, raised up on thick supports, and the ground itself was covered in neatly laid-out fields. Staircases from the ground led up to walkways that connected the buildings at the first level, and he imagined that if not for farming work, it would be possible for Breetet’s citizens to go for days, weeks, or even months without setting foot on the ground.

Jack bent to lean his elbows on the ship’s rail, watching as the city folk went about their business. Caragnanans were small—the tallest barely more than four feet—and their heads sat forward on their torsos, making them appear to be hunched over. Their arms were long and their legs short, which gave them a rather sinister appearance, but he’d been told that they were a kind, peaceful people. He looked forward to finding out for himself.

His eyes on the town, he reviewed what he needed to do that day. He would send a message to his his contact—and one to his chief—from the docks and would arrange a meeting as soon as he could. It would be good to take possession of the plans and store them safely on board _Lady Oddly_. Once that was done, he’d be free to take in the sights of this place, hopefully with a certain lady captain at his side.

“I’ll admit, sir, I’m ready to get off this ship for a little while.” Collins’ voice was quiet, and Jack glanced over at his constable, who stood straight and tall beside him. “I’m more of a solid ground type, I think.”

“Well, we’ll have a couple of days while the ship restocks,” Jack said, straightening. “Once we’ve picked up our parcel, you’re free to explore. Just be sure you’re back in time for launch.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

Jack studied his constable’s face. Hugh was often transparent about his emotions, and this was no exception. The younger man looked miserable.

“Is everything all right, constable?”

“Yes sir,” Hugh said, shaking his head. He paused, then went on. “It’s just…”

“Spit it out, man.”

“It’s just, I don’t think that Dottie—that is, Miss Williams—is ever likely to want to settle down.” His wide blue eyes were sad. “I thought… I thought we were building something real, but she won’t leave the captain.”

“Ah,” Jack said, nodding. “The paradox of pursuing a modern woman.” He clapped Hugh on the shoulder. “You have to let her make her own choices, and be flexible enough that you can find a way to align your choices with hers. If you truly want her, that is.”

Hugh’s shoulders straightened. “I do, sir. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, but she’s not scary like—” He stopped, blushing. “I mean to say—”

Jack cut him off with a laugh and a wave. “No, I understand your meaning. The captain isn’t an easy woman, and any man who would tame her is doomed to disappointment.” Jack’s gaze turned to the woman under discussion, who stood on the bridge beside her first mate, her stance strong and sure. “I wouldn’t change her for all the gold in China, nor am I expecting to keep her beyond the length of this voyage.” The idea that his time with Phryne was limited was like a fist around his heart. He didn’t love her, wouldn’t love her. He knew what he’d gotten into, and forever wasn’t a part of it. If he was foolish enough to want more, well, no one need know that but himself.

Turning back to Collins, he smiled. “My advice is to take this trip for what it is—a time out of our usual way—and enjoy it for that. If you and Miss Williams can come to an agreement for what comes afterward, that’s all well and good, but don’t let the wanting of it spoil what you have now.”

Hugh nodded, his face earnest. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Good lad,” Jack said, patting Hugh’s shoulder again before turning back to the railing to watch the ship dock. 

Several sailors had been standing ready at the bow to throw lines down to the waiting dockers, and Jack watched the graceful curve of each rope as it fell with a smack into the dockers’ hands. Even as the Caragnanans bent to tie them off, each rope had a sailor sliding down it like a monkey; they would double-check that _Lady Oddly_ was secured to the captain’s satisfaction.

“Let’s get this errand over with, then.” He turned to Hugh. “After you, Collins,” he said, gesturing to the gangplank that was just being set in a newly opened section of the rail. “The chief must be ready to hear from us by now.”

Jack met Phryne’s eyes as they stood at the top of the gangplank, and he raised a hand in greeting. She nodded, her smile small and intimate. Once they’d secured the parcel, he and she would be heading to a hotel on land for the next two days. He could admit, if only to himself, that he was far more interested in that assignation than in meeting his contact, but duty had to come first. Turning, he headed down to the dock, determination in his steps.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, after the captain and her lover had made their way to Breetet’s only hotel, the ship was quiet as Mr. Butler made his way along the passage outside the officers’ sleeping quarters. The captain had been right, as usual, that this would be the perfect moment. Half the crew had gone ashore to the local pubs, though they’d be back to sleep; Miss Williams had taken her young man out dancing, and the doctor had joined them, so there was no one to see him as he went about his task. Moving silently in a way that would be unexpected from someone his size, he passed several doors before stopping at a specific one. Wrapping the fingers of his middle hand around his key ring to stifle its jingling, he extracted the appropriate one and let himself into Jack’s cabin, closing the door behind him.

With a quick glance around—the room was tidy, something he approved of—Mr. Butler made his way to the painting and quickly released the catch to swing it to the side. The decorative metals on the safe gleamed softly in the lantern light that came in through the room’s single porthole, the waves and fishes appearing almost to move as the ship tugged softly at her tethers. Lifting a hand to the safe’s handle, he pressed a finger to the silver fish that sat directly above the handle’s shaft. With a soft click, he pressed it, then let it go; released, it sat slightly above the surface. Tucking the tip of one of his claws under the edge, he popped its hinge, revealing a keyhole.

Quickly, he selected another, smaller key from his keyring and inserted it into the tiny hole. With a smooth turn, he listened for the click of the releasing lock, then pulled the handle; the safe door opened quietly, its hinges kept well-oiled. Reaching within, Mr. Butler withdrew the packet that Jack had placed there only hours before. His iridescent skin flashing with the movements of his arms, he used three in quick succession to close the safe, remove his key, and press the keyhole cover back into place before using a fourth to swing the painting into its usual position. Its latch clicked softly as it caught, but Mr. Butler was already turning away, his mind on his next steps.

He would need to work quickly to copy the plans and put the originals back in the safe before the captain and her lover returned; the captain had given him leave to work her cabin, for privacy and the space to spread out. He paused at the tea cupboard, opening each of the tins inside; it seemed he’d need to make time to bake more biscuits as well. A smile quirked his lips; it pleased him that Jack appreciated his cooking. Perhaps he’d work in a special meal for when his friend and the captain returned to the ship. That would give his mind something to ponder while his hands worked to make the copy.

Turning, he opened the cabin’s door a crack to check that the hall was clear, then stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him. Parcel in hand, he moved off down the corridor to the captain’s cabin. He had work to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack woke slowly, feeling warm and loose. He took a deep breath, not opening his eyes, and Phryne’s scent filled his lungs. She lay spooned against him, her bottom nestled into him, her hand clasped around his arm, seeming to hold his hand against her breast as she slept, and his arm tightened around her.

_I could get used to this_. Leaning in to nuzzle a kiss against the nape of her neck, Jack hummed in contentment and felt her stretch lightly against him.

“Mmm, good morning, Jack,” she murmured, snuggling close. 

“Good morning,” he replied, giving her breast a slight squeeze as he pressed his already hardening cock against her warm bottom.

Her hand slid up his arm to cup his jaw, and she turned her head to kiss him lightly. “Hold that thought, Jack,” she said, and turned away, reaching for the bedside table. 

She moved only her upper body, and his hand slid down her side to her hip, holding her against him as he circled his hips. He slid his hand between her legs, lifting her thigh and pressing his between them; when she was open to him, his hand slid back down to slide between her nether lips, stroking her to wetness. As his fingers found her clit, he heard her gasp of pleasure and then the closing of the drawer.

Phryne slid close to rest against him, her back warm against his chest; she settled her head on his bicep and raised her hand to his mouth. “Here,” she said softly, and laid a paper-thin breath freshener against his tongue. “Now I can kiss you properly.” Turning her head again, she suited actions to words, capturing his mouth with hers, her tongue sliding sweetly against his.

Jack closed his eyes, enjoying her flavor, mint-bright and underlaid with her own sweetness; his arm under her head curled up to support her neck and his kiss grew more heated. With a groan, he adjusted his hips to push his cock between her thighs and began to slide against her, his glans bumping her clit with each thrust. Whimpering, Phryne slid her hand on his cheek higher to clutch at his hair as her hips began to move against his. Jack stroked the hand on her hip across her stomach and back to her breast, taking her nipple between his finger and thumb, the weight of her breast warm and welcome in his hand.

He could feel the wetness of her body turning the space between her thighs slippery, and his hips moved faster and faster. Phryne slid a hand down between her legs, and Jack paused momentarily while she rolled a sheath over his length, the touch of her fingers on his cock drawing a soft curse from him. When he was covered, her fingers retreated, but only so far as her clit; as soon as he began to move against her again, he felt the bump of them against his head with every thrust.

“Yes… make yourself come, Phryne,” he whispered into her mouth. “I want to slide inside you while it’s happening.” 

Phryne nodded, her mouth against his, her fingers moving more quickly against her clit as Jack continued to slip against her. Jack dropped the hand on her head down and across her chest to capture her other breast; Phryne’s head drooped with it, her eyes closing as she focused on her building orgasm. His fingers pinching both of her nipples now, Jack dropped his mouth against her neck, his tongue finding a spot beneath her jaw that he knew was particularly sensitive. With a wail, Phryne came, her body bowing against his, and he dipped his hips as he pulled backward, searching for her opening. He felt her hand drop lower to help him aim, and he grinned against her skin as he drove inside her body. 

Phryne screamed again at his entrance, and he moaned—he could feel the rippling contractions of her climax all over his cock, and he began to thrust again, more wildly. Phryne tilted the thigh she had draped over his, opening herself up to him as he pounded against her, one hand moving down to hold her hips in place. With a shout, he came, his hips shuddering against hers, his hand on her hip clamping her tightly to keep himself deep inside her body.

Breathlessly, Phryne began to laugh. “If that is what mornings are always like with you, Jack, I’m sorry we haven’t had one before now!”

Jack chuckled, his arms wrapping tight around her, his mouth against her neck. He could feel himself softening, still inside her body, and the sensation struck him as terribly intimate. Closing his eyes, he breathed her in. He supposed it was too late to tell himself that he wasn’t falling for her. He had already fallen, and there was no going back; he might as well make the most of the time he’d have and find a way to deal with the damage to his heart later.

“Well, I can’t promise that every morning would play out quite that way, captain,” he murmured, “but I think there are some likely variations on that theme.”

“I think I could cope with that, inspector,” she said. 

Jack pressed a kiss to her hair, then rolled away to deal with the condom. Returning to the bed, he climbed back under the covers and she turned to lay her head on his chest, one thigh over his. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, content.

“Jack?”

“Mmm?” 

“I know we said we’d go sightseeing today…”

“Not this morning, surely,” Jack responded, his voice rough with the sleep that tugged at him in the cool, quiet room.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Phryne turned to kiss his chest, one hand stroking across his belly to grasp his side. “Perhaps this afternoon, then.”

“Perhaps,” Jack said, his arms tightening around her as sleep overcame him.

* * *

They managed to get out of bed long enough to meet up with a group from the ship for lunch, though not before discovering that the shower in their hotel room had been sized for species larger than humans. It fit the both of them quite comfortably, and they resolved to do their part to conserve water for the duration of their stay.

Jack followed Phryne into the restaurant that looked out over the town and its fields, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. It pleased him to be allowed to touch her in public, even in so neutral a way as this, and his smile was wider than usual when he greeted his constable, Miss Williams, and Dr. Macmillan. While they said their good mornings, he pulled out the chair for Phryne, his fingers trailing along her shoulders as he settled himself in the seat beside her. She flashed a smile at him, a mixture of tender and sly, and he smirked in return.

He had just noted the empty seat on Phryne’s other side when she asked, “Where is Jane? I thought she was going to come with you?”

Mac glanced up from the menu she was perusing. “In the lobby. There’s a fish tank.” Her tone was wry and calm.

Phryne stilled, mid-motion, and then quickly pushed her chair back. “Order me something light, will you, darling?” Mac nodded, her lips twitching, and Phryne moved away, laying her hand on Jack’s shoulder as he made a move to rise as well, unsure of what was going on.

“Not to worry, Jack,” Mac said, laughter lacing her voice. “I did warn Jane that she was not allowed to eat those fish. She’s older now than she was the last time, and she’ll most likely be able to restrain herself.”

Jack’s eyes widened as he took her meaning, and he glanced over his shoulder to the arch that opened into the lobby from the restaurant. He remembered the fish tank, now that he thought of it; he hoped the brightly colored fish were still swimming happily around it and that the hotel wouldn’t eject them because Jane needed a snack.

Mac burst out laughing. “Your _face_ , Jack!” 

Jack turned back to the table, his expression sheepish. He watched as Mac glanced over at Dot, who was also shaking with laughter; Hugh watched his lady, seeming confused but delighted at her mirth. 

“She won’t actually eat the fish, then?”

“Unlikely.” Mac shook her head. “Too hard to tell whether they’re suitable for her system. Fish on Earth, though… I wouldn’t take that bet.” 

“Now _that_ was a morning,” Dot said, setting her menu down and planting her elbows on the table, her eyes darting to the doorway, probably to be sure that her captain and cabin girl weren’t yet returning. 

“We were in Port-au-Prince, about, what, eighteen months ago?” She looked over to Mac, who nodded. “Jane’s first time on Earth. We’d flown into the Iron Market the day before to make a delivery, and were taking a few days of leave. The captain was staying at a hotel, and we sent Jane to her with a message. The hotel had an enormous tank, filled with all manner of fish, and apparently, while Jane was waiting for the captain to meet her, she managed to eat half a dozen of them. She said later that she hadn’t realized they weren’t there for snacking!” Her laughter spilled over, bubbling and sweet.

Jack snorted, and Hugh gave a scandalized laugh. Mac picked up the thread of the story, her voice warm with amusement.

“When Phryne came down, Jane was just popping a clownfish into her mouth—rather delicately, truth be known. Phryne said that she watched her do it, smooth as you please.” Mac shook her head again. “Well, Phryne hustled Jane out of there as fast as she could before explaining that those fish had been intended for viewing—like pets. Jane was mortified, as you can imagine.”

Jack nodded. That fit with what he knew of Jane—the young Ligaarn had become another friend along the journey here. She was a voracious reader, and Jack enjoyed discussing books with her.

“They spent the morning scouring the town for a shop that sold fish, just so that Jane could replace the ones she’d eaten.” Mac grinned. “I think that she bought a few extras, though, the way that you or I would buy a bag of candies.”

“And did they manage to put them back?” Hugh leaned forward to look at Mac around Dot, his blue eyes round and wide.

“They did. I think that Phryne,” she coughed delicately, sending Jack a twinkling glance, “ _distracted_ the desk clerk while Jane added them to the tank.”

“She is distracting,” Jack mused dryly. “I can sympathize.”

“Talking about me behind my back, darlings?” Phryne laid a hand on his shoulder as she resumed her seat, Jane sliding into the seat beside her. 

“Mac and Dot here were just telling me about your habit of distracting people while covert operations go on in plain sight.” Jack noticed that Phryne seemed to hesitate, her eyes on him, as she reached for her napkin. In a heartbeat, however, she was herself again, sparkling back at him.

“Only if the job requires it,” she said, “and not all distractions are equal. Most of the time, they’re just business, though once in a while, one will surprise me.”

“Now that sounds like a story,” Jack murmured, his eyebrows rising. 

“I’ll tell you about it someday,” Phryne agreed easily. “But not over lunch. What looks good?”

* * *

Phryne did her best, the rest of the day, to keep from thinking about what was happening between herself and Jack. Their affair had begun as a bit of fun to while away the long trip between Earth and Caragnana, but lately it had begun to feel like more. Waking up to him that morning had felt _right_ in a way that she’d never felt with a man before. She’d known exactly who he was even before she opened her eyes, his scent and the sensation of his hands on her skin so familiar that she didn’t even question them.

It was really going to hurt when he walked away.

Shaking herself slightly, Phryne pushed the thought of that future pain away and focused on what she had. Until now, he had seemed so ready to leave her bed at night that she hadn’t wanted to push him to stay. That needed to change. Maybe if he understood how much she enjoyed his company, by the time he found out about the rest, he’d be willing to forgive her more quickly; if not, at least she would have the memories of their time together, knowing that she hadn’t held back on the important things.

“Captain, have you seen these?” 

Jane’s clear voice recalled Phryne from the dark place where her thoughts had wandered, and she looked over with an automatic smile. The girl was standing among a flock of animals that looked almost like goats, except that their fur ranged in shades from green through blue and into purple. They bleated happily, crowding Jane, soft noses snuffling at her pockets or her fingers, drawing Jane’s laughter as she tried to scratch their heads. A little one tried to catch the tip of her tail as it waved happily behind her, prancing and jumping in what looked like joy.

“They’re not afraid of me!” Jane’s tone was amazed, and Phryne felt a pang of sadness for this girl, whose sweet nature would likely be overlooked all of her life because of her race. At least Jane had her and the rest of _Lady Oddly_ ’s crew. 

“And why would they be?” Phryne’s response held none of the sadness in her heart. “They can see you’re a soft touch. They’re probably after the rolls you stuffed in your pocket at lunchtime.” 

Jane, like many children who’d known hunger, had a habit of secreting food away when it was plentiful; Phryne had done the same herself once upon a time, and she understood the impulse. Jane would either come to a point where she didn’t need to do it anymore or it would continue to serve her. Either way, Phryne wouldn’t judge her for it, or try to make her stop, not if it was something she needed. Now, she smiled as she saw her ward fish out a flattened roll of soft bread and began tearing it into pieces to feed to the goats.

As they’d walked through the fields side by side, Jack had generally maintained a comfortable—if watchful—silence, and he didn’t speak now. She felt his warmth as he stepped close beside her, and the slide of his hand from her wrist to her palm was an invitation. Phryne glanced up at him as she curled her fingers between his; his gaze on her was admiring, and she felt it blanket her. _Don’t,_ she wanted to say. _Don’t admire me._ But at the same time, she basked in the warmth of his good opinion, leaning slightly closer so that her shoulder bumped his.

Phryne was determined to take as much from this time with him as she could get, to feel as much as she could for this man whom she’d betrayed. She’d need the memories to tide her over after it shattered.

* * *

Phryne stood on the bridge, looking out over her ship as it sailed serenely through the aether. They’d been traveling for just over three weeks now, and it felt as if, in the last few weeks, everything had changed. Since they’d left Caragnana, Jack had spent every night in her bed, and he’d stayed to wake up with her every morning. Most of his things had migrated to her cabin, and she couldn’t find it in herself to object. 

She was in love with him. She knew it, and she despaired of what would happen when he found out about her deception. It didn’t matter that her motives were pure—he would want to know why she hadn’t told him; if she knew Jack, he’d have wanted to help. The rock and the hard place she found herself between were brutal. If she told him the truth, she betrayed one set of oaths; if she didn’t, she betrayed the unspoken bond between them. The first felt too dishonorable to be truly considered—she didn’t break promises, ever—and the second hurt even to think about. 

Shifting her gaze to the ship’s deck, she looked for Jack and found him leaning over with his elbows on the ship’s rail. Her eyes ran over him, enjoying the view. Today he wore a deep blue waistcoat that matched his eyes, and it skimmed faithfully over his flat belly; he’d rolled up his snowy white shirtsleeves to reveal tanned and muscular arms, and his large hands were linked together as he watched a pod of whales go by. One ankle crossed over the other and his firm buttocks outlined faithfully by the tweed of his trousers, he looked comfortable and casual and disturbingly _right_. 

Part of her hoped that he would find out before they got to Melbourne. That would solve everything—if he already knew what she’d done, she could explain why she’d done it, and maybe he’d be able to forgive her. But that was cowardly. She should tell him. She _would_ tell him… just as soon as she figured out how.

* * *

“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it sir?” 

Jack heard Collins, but it took him a moment to register the question; he’d been watching the whales, concentrating on letting their movements soothe the sadness from his mind. Only five days left, and he’d have to return to his real life, leaving the dream of this one—and Phryne—behind. He had been trying very hard not to think of it, since she had given no indication that she’d like to continue their affair after he’d left her ship. With an effort, he turned his head to look at Collins. The younger man stood with his hands on the rail, his eyes on great floating beasts that drifted lazily through the aether alongside the ship.

“What’s that, Collins?” 

“I just said that it’s hard to believe we’re nearly home.” Collins’ blue eyes were wide and a little sad.

“Ah, yes.” Jack replied. 

_Home._ But was it, really? His house in Melbourne was really only a place to sleep in between work shifts. He had friends, of course, though few that he was very close to; he also had women that he’d call for a night on the town or an evening in, but none of those relationships went deeper than the occasional night of pleasure. 

He glanced over to the bridge, where Phryne stood, legs spread and hands folded behind her back—the very picture of a captain, assured and in control. He was in love with her. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d married, twenty years before—and even then, that love had been shallower, based on his wife’s good looks and the pleasure he found with her. This love was something else, something more. 

“I took your advice, sir.” 

Jack looked back at Collins—he’d forgotten the man was there—and made a sort of inquiring noise in the back of his throat.

“About Dottie,” Collins went on. “I think we’ve found a way to be together that suits us both.”

“Have you?” Jack straightened and turned to his constable, leaning back against the ship’s rail.

“She says that since Melbourne is their home base, we can see each other when she’s in port.” The young man shrugged. “It’s not perfect, but she’ll be happy.”

Jack cocked his head. “Will you be happy with that?”

“I hope so, sir.” Collins met his eyes, his face serious. “I love her. Maybe someday there’ll be a job for me on this ship, or she’ll get pregnant and we’ll figure out a way to raise the child together. Whatever the future brings, we’ll face it together. That’s what I really want.”

Jack nodded and reached out to clap the younger man on the shoulder. Hugh stood quietly for a moment, then turned toward the rail to to look out at the whales. Jack let his hand fall away, and leaned down to rest on his elbows once more.

“I’ll miss Mr. Butler’s cooking too,” Hugh said into the comfortable silence a few moments later. “Particularly his baking. He’s proud of it too. I didn’t think that he would fill our tea things himself.”

Jack glanced at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I saw him in the corridor when Dot and I came back aboard at Caragnana. He was just leaving your cabin—said he’d filled your biscuit tin and asked if mine needed filling as well.”

Jack frowned. He knew for a fact that it was generally Jane who filled the tea things as part of her duties. She’d told him so. So why would Mr. Butler have been in his cabin? And why would he lie about it? He felt a tingle of suspicion, then pushed it away. The safe was locked, and he’d set the combination himself. _But they must have a way to get in if a passenger leaves it locked,_ a treacherous little voice inside his head whispered. A memory surfaced suddenly, of the moment Phryne had stilled at breakfast when he’d remarked on the story about her misdirection of the hotel clerk so that Jane could replace the fish. Had she interpreted it differently?

But no, if Mr. Butler had done something, he’d taken the opportunity to do it while both he and Phryne were off the ship. That had to mean something. Perhaps it was nothing at all, and Mr. Butler was delivering the biscuits himself because Jane was still on land. Jack knew that the man would have wanted the cabins to be fully restocked before everyone came back on board. 

It was probably nothing, but perhaps he’d just check. Because if he was wrong, and Phryne’s cook was treacherous, she needed to know. It could be dangerous for her if her crew was deceiving her.

“Mr. Butler is proud of his cooking, and with reason,” Jack replied calmly. He wouldn’t overreact or share this suspicion yet. “Speaking of which,” he straightened, and forced a small smile to his lips, “I think I might just go and have a biscuit now. I’m a mite peckish.”

“Of course, sir,” Hugh said with a grin. “May as well take advantage while we’re here.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, his stomach clenching with the implications of Collins’ innocent words. He walked toward the stairwell without hurrying, raising a hand to Phryne as he passed. She smiled at him, and he felt his mouth stretch in response. Her expression didn’t change, so he must have looked normal.

Once he was belowdecks, he sped up—not running, but moving with some urgency. Suddenly, he had to know. He was at his cabin door in moments, and he moved inside, closing the door behind him. The air was stale—he hadn’t spent more than a moment at a time in here since they’d returned from Caragnana—but all of his attention was on the painting in the corner and the safe it hid.

Swinging the painting aside, he faced the small safe. His eyes scanned its surface, looking for any indication that there was another way to open it. He ran his hands over the metal, first in the general area where the reset button would be on the inside, then across the handle. His fingertips detected what his eyes could not—the fish shape atop the handle’s shaft sat at a slightly different level than the rest of the metal. He put his face close to it, looking for a mechanism; when he didn’t see one, he set a finger on the fish and pushed. Feeling it give, his heart sank. When he let it go, the metal followed his finger until it was obviously above the level of the handle; his gut churning, he ran a fingernail under its edge until it popped open, revealing a tiny keyhole.

He swallowed. _Just because there is a mechanism doesn’t mean that someone’s used it._ Pushing the tiny door closed again, he straightened and slowly punched in the code he’d set, then pulled the safe open to regard the parcel inside. It appeared to be in the same general position he’d set it in, and any slight change could be attributed to the movement of the ship. There was only one way to tell if it had been tampered with. Reaching inside, he pulled it out.

The packet was a leather envelope with a small, round brass clasp holding it closed. The clasp was a simple one—just pinch the sides to release the buckle—but it did have a special feature. The decorative ring on the face of the clasp could be opened, and within it was a disc enameled in a pie made up of six colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. A small brass arrow sat atop the pie slices inside the clasp; it was set to move each time the clasp was opened. 

Taking a deep breath, Jack flicked the ring open. His knees buckled and he staggered backward to sit on the edge of the bunk. When he’d closed the packet on Caragnana after verifying its contents, that arrow had stood firmly on the green slice. He looked again, disbelieving, but what he’d seen hadn’t changed: the arrow now pointed to purple. Someone had opened this envelope at least twice since he’d placed it in the safe.

Clenching his jaw against the pain of betrayal, Jack pressed the sides of the clasp to open the envelope and rifled through the documents inside. They all appeared to be in order—at least, they matched his memory of what he’d seen before. Closing the clasp again, he stood and slid the packet back into the safe, locking its door before swinging the painting back into place. Resting his hands on either side of the painting, he hung his head, his breath coming quickly.

If Mr. Butler had done this thing, he’d probably made a copy of the plans. But why? To sell them to the highest bidder? Were the plans in the packet still accurate? Perhaps he’d replaced the actual plans with ones that had errors introduced, making them unusable, so his client could corner the market on this technology. Jack stood, setting his hands on his hips as his thoughts raced.

Unless Mr. Butler had met his contact on Caragnana—and he didn’t think there would have been time to make the copy in the two days they’d been docked—the other copy of the plans had to still be on board. If Jack could find it, he could take both copies to his chief. 

_Mr. Butler was very loyal to his captain, and chances are that he would not have done this thing without her knowledge._ The unwelcome thought floated gently into Jack’s mind. He stiffened, but forced himself to acknowledge it. There was a chance that Mr. B had planned this without Phryne, but it was slim. His mind flashed to her casual offer of the use of this safe and her explanation of the safe’s workings, which hadn’t included revealing the keyhole. Jack tilted his head back, his hands fisting on his thighs, his throat working as he swallowed hurt. 

But if Phryne knew, did that mean that everything they’d become to each other was a lie? He remembered something she’d said, the second morning in Caragnana. They’d made love with the sunlight streaming in the window, slow and tender. When it was over, and Jack had lain atop her, his softening cock still deep inside her body, she’d wrapped him in her arms and buried her head in his shoulder.

“I never intended to mix business with pleasure this way, Jack,” she’d whispered.

“Nor I, captain,” he’d admitted, turning his head to press a kiss to her temple.

She’d turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “You are more than business now. You know that, don’t you?” At his solemn nod, she’d gone on. “I would never hurt you if I could avoid it. And I will never lie to you.”

He’d kissed her then, his whole heart in it, before making love to her again as the sunlight warmed his back.

Clenching his jaw, Jack shook his head. Whatever deal she and her crew had made, it had been in place before they reached Caragnana, so therefore before they’d left Melbourne. She couldn’t have known then that she would… care for him. And maybe she couldn’t get out of whatever deal she’d made. She might not even know what they were selling. 

He’d wait until he found the copy to do anything drastic. It was still possible that she wasn’t involved, so when he knew where it was, he’d tell her about it. Until he knew for sure, though, he would just carry on as usual, and love her as hard as he could until he had to leave her. 

**********

Over the next few days, Phryne could tell that Jack was out of sorts. His lovemaking had taken on a desperate edge, as if he could see that their end was near. She felt it too—they’d be back in Melbourne in no time, and then what would happen? They hadn’t discussed what they wanted to do. If she could, she’d find a way to keep him—perhaps they could send messages and be together when she was in port, the way that Dot and her Hugh had decided to do. Maybe, after his job and hers were done, they could look more clearly at what the future could hold.

First, though, they had to get through their return to Melbourne. 

Leaving Dot in charge of the details of docking, she went looking for Jack, who’d disappeared belowdecks to finish packing as they approached. They probably had an hour before they’d be situated and ready to disembark—maybe he’d be amenable to one last tryst. God, she was going to miss him. Not just his body, though that was extraordinary, nor his lovemaking skills, though he pleased her more than any other lover had. She’d miss their conversations, and the quickness of his mind, and the moments when they would lie together in silence, content to be in each other’s arms. She hadn’t had that with other lovers—likely because she hadn’t loved them the way she loved Jack.

She paused as she came to Jack’s cabin—he’d obviously already cleared his things out because the door was ajar. Peering in, she saw that he’d left the safe open as she requested. Her stomach gave a little clench of worry. It seemed that he hadn’t realized what they’d done. That was good for now, though she’d have to tell him if she wanted to go on seeing him. It would be impossible for them to properly build a life together if they began on a foundation of lies.

Sighing, and feeling a little maudlin about the position she found herself in, she stuck her head into the room, taking a deep breath. His scent had mostly faded from this space, which made sense, as he’d barely used it for the last month. Pulling the door closed, she moved on, knowing he’d have gone to her—their—cabin to finish his packing there. She picked up her pace, wanting to make the most of the time they had if she could.

Phryne pushed open the door to her cabin and saw Jack’s duffel sitting in her desk chair. 

“Jack?” She had stepped fully into the room before she saw him standing in the corner, a stack of papers in his hands. “There you are! I was thinking, we have an hour or so before we dock, and—”

“I tried to convince myself that if you were a part of this plan, it had nothing to do with me.” His flat voice cut across her bright one, severing it, and Phryne stopped in the middle of the floor. She could see now that he was standing in front of her safe—her open safe—and that the papers he held were the copy of the plans he’d picked up on Caragnana. 

He gripped the stack so tightly that she could see his knuckles whiten. The hand holding the papers dropped to his side, and she saw that he held another, smaller sheet in the other hand. Her heart sinking, Phryne recognized it as the stellargram she’d received from her contact when they were on Caragnana. Like Jack, she’d checked in to share her progress, and this had been the response.

“But that isn’t the case, is it, Captain Fisher?” He glanced up her then, and his jaw clenched. He lifted the smaller paper, indicating it, and quoted, apparently from memory. “ _Good that DIR suspects nothing -STOP- Continue as planned -STOP- Meet at usual place on return.”_ His eyes were anguished, and Phryne felt her heart break.

“Jack, it’s not what you—” She raised a hand, palm up in supplication, not even really knowing what she was planning to say.

“‘DIR’—That’s Detective Inspector Robinson, correct?” He crumpled the stellargram in his fist, his hand falling to his side. Phryne could only nod.

“Yes, but—”

“And continuing as planned—did you plan to distract me, as you’re so good at doing, by taking me to bed, Phryne? Was that what the last two months was about?” He raised his fist to his forehead, his eyes on her. “If that was your plan, it worked spectacularly. I was so distracted by you that I didn’t see what was right under my nose.” 

The pain in his voice was almost more than she could bear, and she took a step forward. She’d known that he would be hurt if he found out, but if he’d only let her explain, maybe she could still save this—save them.

“I thought, for the longest time, that because you made the deal before we left Melbourne, what we had was separate and unexpected. That you hadn’t been faking what you felt for me.” He dropped his hand, looking down to the balled-up stellargram he held. “But that wasn’t it at all, was it? You knew you’d have to distract me somehow. How nice for you that the job came with a plethora of orgasms, hm?” 

“Jack! That’s—”

He shook his head, hard. “No! I knew you were a mercenary, but I thought I knew the real you, underneath that. The additional deal must have been really lucrative if you were willing to jeopardize your longstanding contract for it. Do you even know what you were going to sell? This—” and he lifted the plans in his other hand, waving them at her “—could change the world, and you were going to bargain it away to a bidder who’d price it so high it would be unattainable.” 

Phryne felt a different kind of pain then. Did he really think that of her? Did he know her so little that he thought she would be that dishonorable? She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms, feeling anger begin to lick at her. Let him get his side said, and then she’d have her turn. 

“I can’t believe that I didn’t suspect anything—you were just so damned _perfect_!” Jack’s voice broke slightly, and he moved across to her desk to shove the copy of the plans deep into his bag. Holding the bag open, he punched his fist down inside to add the stellargram. “I even regretted not being able to tell you what I was doing—I should have known, when you knew that I was a cop, that you had something else planned. I’m such an _idiot_.” He yanked the ties of his duffel closed and pulled it onto his shoulder as he turned to face her. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were red and anguished.

“You didn’t have to use me that way, Phryne,” he said, his voice quiet. “You could have just done your double-cross and left me out of it. Or did it add spice to make me fall in love with you while you were planning to stab me in the back?” 

Phryne’s hands fell to her side, and her mouth opened. Jack loved her?

“I never thought you’d feel the same way, but you didn’t have to be cruel, Phryne.” With that, he brushed past her, pulling the door open and stepping through even as she turned with him.

“Jack, wait!” Phryne called after him, reaching out a hand that just missed touching his sleeve, but he didn’t stop. Her feet felt frozen in place, the revelation of Jack’s feelings such a shock that she couldn’t move. She watched him stalk down the corridor and disappear up the stairs to the main deck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has discovered Phryne's duplicity, and he can't get away fast enough. But does he know it all, really? (Spoiler: He doesn't.)

Jack strode down the dock, his duffel over his shoulder and his anger and hurt lengthening his strides. It had been a tense half hour of waiting for the ship to dock, doing his best to hide his feelings as he said goodbye to Jane and Mac. He’d spent the whole time anticipating Phryne following him up from her cabin; he told himself he expected her to try to justify what she’d done, but a tiny part of him hoped she would come to ask for his forgiveness. He honestly hadn’t known what his answer would be if she’d asked, but as it turned out, the point was moot. She had come up eventually, but she hadn’t approached him—instead, she’d made a beeline for the bridge, where she’d stood beside Dot, her arms folded behind her. He imagined that he could once again feel her eyes on his back, but he hadn’t turned to look. When the ship was tethered and the loading platform was ready, he’d been the first person on it.

As he rounded a corner, finally out of sight of the docks, his steps slowed. He was grateful that Collins would be following him later—he needed a moment to collect his thoughts. Stopping altogether, he leaned a hand against the wall and hung his head. Phryne had used him. The knowledge was like a fist in the gut. When he’d read that stellargram, he’d been unable to breathe for what felt like forever, and then she was there, brilliant and beautiful and _not his_ , and the pain had spread until his skin felt like it was on fire.

Taking a deep breath, he began walking again, his steps brisk, but no longer on the verge of running. He considered catching one of the cabs that rolled by—horse-drawn or steam-powered—and decided that he needed the walk to get his head together. Chief Hart could wait the few extra minutes.

As he walked, he mentally prepared his report. He’d have to let the chief know about the copy of the plans, and they might need to be reviewed by someone with technical knowledge, in case changes had been made—Jack wasn’t sure which was the original, and they wouldn’t want to deliver an incomplete version. Jack would also need to tell Chief Hart about his “friend” Captain Fisher and her duplicity. His mind shied away from that thought. He was still reeling, and if he considered it for too long, he might actually lose his breakfast.

So. His report. The points to make were: Duplicated plans—and he knew that he could be in trouble for that—deceitful captain and crew, recovery. Recovery. Jack huffed out a laugh. It would be a long time before he recovered from this mission. Maybe he’d eventually be able to remember the good parts of the trip—the laughter and the pleasure and the friends he’d made. That thought made him hurt even more. He’d trusted Mac and Mr. B, Jane had felt like a little sister toward the end… Clenching his jaw, Jack pushed the thoughts away. He had friends enough here in Melbourne, and he’d get over his feelings for Phryne Fisher eventually. He had to.

Jack’s mood was still grim as he pushed through the doors of Russell Street and made his way up to Chief Hart’s office. The secretary, a young widow whom Jack had dated a few times before—well, just _before_ —looked up from her work with a smile. Jack stopped and laid a hand on the edge of her desk.

“Gianni! You’re back!” Her smile was warm, and it made her dark eyes sparkle.

“Hello, Concetta. Yes, just.” He made himself smile back and saw her look of concern. Not very convincing, then. “Is he in?”

“He is expecting you. Go on through.” She reached out to touch his hand before he turned away. “Will you come to dinner tonight? I can make your favorite, _penne arrabiata_. I have missed you.” 

Jack smiled again, guilt pricking him. He hadn’t thought of Concetta even once while he’d been away—too consumed by Phryne for any other woman to gain purchase in his thoughts. Concetta deserved better than that.

“I can’t tonight, ‘Cetta,” he said regretfully. “Perhaps another time?”

“Of course, Gianni,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze before pulling hers away. He saw the disappointment in her gaze. She had obviously noticed what he hadn’t said.

With a nod of his head, Jack turned and knocked lightly before opening the door of Chief Hart’s office. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. 

Chief Hart was just closing the door to his private washroom on the other side of the office, and he waved Jack forward.

“Ah, Robinson. Good man. How did it go?” Hart was a big man, broad-shouldered and beefy, his thick white mustache and full head of snow-white hair stark against the tan of his skin. He sat behind his desk and leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him.

“Almost without a hitch, sir,” Jack said, taking a seat in front of the desk and swinging his duffel around so that he could rummage in it. He pulled out the leather envelope he’d been given and slid it across the desk. “There was, however, a complication.” He pulled out the copy he’d found in Phryne’s safe, along with the stellargram, which he smoothed out before placing both on the desk and sliding them closer as well.

“What’s this?” Chief Hart’s bushy white eyebrows drew together over his blue eyes. 

“A copy of the plans, sir. I found it in Captain Fisher’s private safe.” Jack swallowed, forcing his voice to be even as he made the bald statement. “It seems clear that she intended to sell it to one of the black marketers we were concerned about.”

“I see. How did they get hold of the plans to copy them, inspector?” 

Jack clenched his jaw. “That was my fault, sir, entirely. I spent two days in a hotel as we restocked on Caragnana, and though I did lock the plans in the safe in my quarters, I failed to consider that there might be a master key. Captain Fisher was very convincing in her guise of friendship.” He could hear the tinge of bitterness in his voice, and he shook his head. “I believe that one of her crew took the plans from my safe and copied them, then returned them. If my constable hadn’t mentioned seeing the man, I wouldn’t even have thought to check the folio’s color dial.” 

“And having checked it, you searched the captain’s cabin?” Hart’s voice was neutral. Jack couldn’t tell whether the chief was angry at his oversight; he wouldn’t blame the man if he was. Jack was plenty angry at himself.

“No sir, first I checked the rest of the ship, starting with the quarters of the crewman Collins saw. When I didn’t find the plans, I checked the captain’s cabin as a last resort. I am sorry to bring you this news. I knew that you and she were friendly.”

The chief nodded, his expression unreadable. Jack wasn’t sure what he’d expected would happen when he delivered this news, but it wasn’t no reaction at all. He supposed it made sense—he was Hart’s employee, not his friend. After a silence that seemed to stretch for hours, the chief spoke.

“I knew you were my best, Robinson. You’ve uncovered something that many men in your position wouldn’t have, and you brought back both the original and the copy.” 

“I couldn’t be sure which was the original—whether they’d substituted a sabotaged one for the one I was bringing back, or simply duplicated it.” Jack’s heart twisted again at the thought that Phryne and her crew would have sent him back to his chief with a worthless version. His mouth quirked in a tiny, self-deprecatory smile at the thought that he was hoping they’d only made a copy.

With a small tightening of his lips, the chief nodded. Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a form. “I’ll get someone double-checking them immediately,” he said as he wrote. “I need you to take the original to Canberra, Robinson.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack replied. He was glad to be given a task, truth be told, so that he didn’t just sit and maunder on about what the woman he loved—and he did love her still, damn her eyes—had done.

“Give this to Mrs. Fabrizzi, and she’ll get you on the lightning rail.” He held out the paper, and Jack took it, surprised. The lightning rail’s raised tracks had been laid to Canberra only the year before, and it could make the trip nearly as fast as an airship could. It cost almost as much, too, and he hadn’t expected the station to pay the premium for it. 

“I’ll have a messenger meet you at the station with the correct set of plans,” Hart went on. He fixed Jack with his steely blue gaze. “You’ve done good work here, detective inspector, don’t doubt that.”

Jack’s mouth tightened, and he gave the chief a nod. He wished that his gut could agree with the other man’s assessment. “Thank you, sir.”

Chief Hart nodded in return, and Jack took that for the dismissal that it was. He hefted his duffel and left, closing the door to Hart’s office behind him. He had travel plans to make, and he hoped he’d have time to stop by his house for a change of clothes. This suit held memories he rather wanted to forget.

* * *

Inside the Chief’s private washroom, Phryne laid her head against the back of the door, wishing that she could reveal herself. As he’d reported to Chief Hart, his voice had been flat, but she had heard the pain in it. She hated letting him think that she’d truly betrayed him—though not telling him the truth was another sort of betrayal, she supposed. But he didn’t have the clearance to be told of her role, and her heart broke all over again.

After he’d left the _Lady Oddly_ , she’d raced to catch a cab and beat him to Russell Street. She’d passed him where he’d stood, his shoulders slumped and his hand braced against the wall as if he might fall, and she’d wanted nothing more than to break her oath to the Australian Secret Service by stopping the cab to pull him inside. 

Listening to his voice, she closed her eyes, memory providing visions of him from their journey: His head on her pillows, his broad shoulders and chest on display as she moved above him in the rhythms of lovemaking; lying against his chest, his deep voice echoing against the ear she had pressed to his chest, his heart beating a strong counterpoint to his words; watching him stand on deck in deep discussion with Jane or Mac, his face serious; seeing the compassion in his eyes as she’d told him the story of losing her family. What if he never forgave her?

She had been trying to hold onto the anger that had sparked in her when he’d said he believed that she was ready to trade in her planet’s environment for a quick payday, but it was difficult. It kept trying to be smothered by hurt—she had shown him all of herself, not just her body, but her true personality, and he’d thought it was all a sham. That might be the worst part of it. If they’d made a real go at being together and failed, at least she’d know they’d given it their all. But this… they’d had no real chance, and by the time she’d realized she wanted one, the lies were already too deep.

Clenching her jaw, she vowed to herself that she’d find a way to tell him the truth—maybe the chief would give her leave, or maybe she’d engineer a way for him to “accidentally” overhear her talking about it. And if, once he knew what the real situation was, he still didn’t want her… well, she’d managed this long without him. Though the idea of him hating her was like a knife in the heart, at least she’d know she’d tried.

“You can come out now, captain,” the chief’s deep voice carried easily to her hiding place. 

Raising her head, she realized that Jack had left already, and she hadn’t registered it. It was probably just as well. She took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the chief’s comfortable office.

“You seem to have made quite an impression on Inspector Robinson, my girl,” her godfather said, leaning back in his chair as she came to sit on the edge of his desk.

“What do you mean, Uncle Roddy?” 

“I mean that he is quite obviously wrecked by what he sees as your duplicity.” The chief folded his hands across his belly as he regarded her with warm blue eyes. “I’m rather surprised that you didn’t tell him about your mission.”

Phryne sighed. “I considered it, believe me.” She turned to look at the door through which Jack had so recently left. “If he’d given me a chance to speak when he was accusing me, I would have—service oath be damned.” The spark of anger at Jack’s stubborn refusal to _talk_ to her flared a little in her chest. She would have told him everything, though she would have hated herself a little for breaking her word. Still, it would have been worth it. If she ever got the chance to talk to him, though, he’d be getting a piece of her mind.

“He doesn’t have the proper clearance, it’s true, but generally allowances can be made for the, er, _significant others_ of our operatives.” 

Roderick Hart’s voice was mild, and Phryne turned back to him in surprise. His tone reminded her of how he had spoken to her when she was a teen—when her parents died, she’d been sailing with Roddy. She’d had a fight with her father over something she could no longer remember, and she’d refused to board the same ship as him when their pilgrimage set out. Instead, she’d taken a cabin on Roddy’s ship, and she’d spent the six weeks of the journey learning the ropes—quite literally. She only wished that she’d been able to convince her sister to join her, but Janey had been her father’s favorite, and he’d refused to let her go. 

Afterward, when she was alone in the world, Roddy and his wife had taken her in, and she’d grown up alongside their two children. The difference had been that she was angry at everything and everyone, and Roddy been the only one who could defuse her rages.

“He’s not my—”

“Come now, Phryne-girl, I know you better than that.” Her godfather looked at her sternly. “Tell me true. Do you have feelings for Jack Robinson?”

Phryne rolled her lips inward and looked up at Chief Hart. Meeting his eyes, she nodded mutely.

“I thought as much.” He sighed and leaned forward to pull the two versions of the plans toward him across the desk. Spotting the wrinkled stellargram, he lifted it. “Ah. Is this how he found out about your involvement, then?”

“Yes,” she admitted on a sigh. “After he’d worked out that we’d tampered with his file, apparently he searched the whole ship for the copy before he ended up cracking my safe.” She smiled a little, pride in Jack’s intelligence a tiny kernel deep inside her breast. 

She’d hosted more than one police officer on her ship for missions like this one, in which she and her crew made a copy of highly profitable technological plans and sold them—after carefully introducing errors that made them unusable—to various criminal elements. It had proven to be an effective way to pinpoint criminals for the authorities while also building her own reputation in underground circles. And for all of the cops she’d had on board—some of whom had spent a night or two in her cabin—Jack was the only one who’d cottoned on to the switch. He was also the only one she’d wanted in her bed over and over again. She sighed again, her smile dying.

“That’s the copy, by the way,” she nodded at the bundle of papers Jack had pulled from her safe that morning. Was it really only that morning? He’d woken her with pleasure, his mouth on her skin, and they’d greeted the day with slow, luxurious lovemaking. Only a few hours later, he had looked at her as if he hated her.

“I guessed as much.” The chief said. “When is your rendezvous with Beaulieu?”

“Hm?” Phryne tore herself out of her maudlin thoughts. “Oh, three o’clock, at the Queen Victoria gardens. He said he’d be wearing a red rose in his lapel.” Her slight sneer showed what she thought of the clichéd way of identifying this man. 

“Right. I’ll get a team ready to follow him, and we’ll pick him up well after you’ve headed back to your ship.”

Phryne nodded, her thoughts racing. “By the time Jack returns from Canberra, it’ll all be over,” she mused. Tilting her head, she raised one eyebrow and looked hard at her godfather. “Perhaps you could thank him for his assistance in the Australian Secret Service’s efforts to catch this intergalactic criminal.” 

Chief Hart narrowed his eyes at her. Phryne linked her hands together, entwining her fingers, and lifted them to her chin. Widening her eyes, she angled her eyebrows in mock supplication. “Please? If _you_ tell him, darling uncle, then _I_ won’t be breaking my word.” 

“Hmph. That expression never worked on me even when you were a teenager,” her godfather muttered, though she heard the humor in his voice. “I might as well,” he grumbled, even as his eyes twinkled at her from under his bushy brows. “Otherwise, you’ll just mope around, wishing you could.” 

With a laugh, Phryne leaped up to round the desk and lay a robust kiss on her godfather’s cheek, her arms around his neck. He laughed, a warm chuckle that always felt like home to her, and patted her back.

“Well, now, just be sure that you stop in and visit your godmother while you’re in town,” he said. 

“I will, Uncle Roddy,” she replied, straightening. “For now, though, I need to go get Dot and prepare for this meeting.”

“Be careful, Phryne girl.” Hart’s face was solemn. “This is a dangerous man you’re dealing with.”

“I’m a bit of a dangerous woman,” she shot back with a wink. “But I will be careful.” 

With a nod, Chief Hart scooped up the copy of the plans—minus the incriminating stellargram—and slid them into a leather folio he pulled from his desk drawer. He held them out to her, and she took them, tucking them neatly under one arm.

With a smart salute, she headed toward the door, but paused before opening it. Turning back to look at him over her shoulder, she smiled. 

“Thank you.” The words fell softly from her lips, but she knew that he felt the weight of them. 

“It’s my pleasure,” he responded, smiling slightly. “Now get on with it. You have work to do.”

With a nod and a wave, she did.

* * *

Jack stood on the platform of the lightning rail station, tickets in the inside pocket of his blue wool suit, and contemplated his choices for lunch. Concetta had been able to get him a seat on a car that would leave at noon, and now he just had to wait for the messenger from the chief to arrive with the packet he was to deliver. He’d had time to stop by his house to drop off his duffel and change his suit, but he hadn’t had anything ready to eat in his larder—plenty of flour, sugar, and tea, but nothing that would have spoiled while he was away. He’d have to go to the shops tomorrow, he thought absently.

Watching the crowds, he noted which of the three food carts were most frequented by the uniformed rail staff. He’d pick something up there once he had the plans in hand. Just as he had the thought, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Gianni?”

Jack swung around to see Concetta standing behind him, her tweed suit neat and her hair swept up into a soft bun on top of her head. She held the folio that he’d brought back with him from Caragnana.

“Concetta!” Jack smiled through his confusion. He hadn’t anticipated seeing her again today, though he should have. She was the perfect courier. If the chief had sent a uniformed constable, they’d have drawn too much attention, and the packet was too important to send with just any street runner.

She smiled up at him sweetly, but he could see the doubt in her eyes. “I have brought your work,” she murmured, holding out the packet. She stood close enough that he could smell her perfume.

He took the folio, his fingers brushing hers purposefully, hoping to feel the spark that had been there before this mission. Concetta was a beautiful woman, and they’d spent several evenings together, the last few ending quite enjoyably in either his bed or hers. He might even have contemplated more with her—when he thought of her at all—but that was before he’d met Phryne Fisher. Now, the touch of her hands was just warmth, and he drew the packet away with a small shake of his head.

Her face fell slightly, and she searched his eyes. “Something changed while you were away, did it not, Gianni? Your heart… it is taken in a way that it was not before.” 

Jack clenched his jaw. He hated that it was true. Much as he wanted to deny it, Phryne Fisher had taken possession of his heart—just before she’d stomped on it.

“I’m sorry, ‘Cetta,” he murmured. “You deserve better.”

She pursed her lips, and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. After a moment, she nodded. “Then… goodbye, Gianni.” With a tight smile, she turned and hurried away across the platform.

Jack cursed himself silently as he slid the folio into his briefcase. He turned grimly back to the carts where he’d decided to buy lunch. When he settled into his seat, Jack ate the sausage roll he’d purchased without tasting it. Looking out at the platform, he watched the reflection of the other passengers in the window as they made their way into the rail car. When a man settled in the seat beside him, Jack glanced over. His new seatmate was dark-haired, with broad shoulders and a thick build, though it looked like muscle rather than fat. He wore a perfectly tailored dark gray suit with a bright red silk tie. The man nodded cordially at Jack, who returned the gesture before turning away again. 

As the rail car began to move, the conductor came through to punch their tickets. Jack lifted his case and opened the flap, withdrawing his book, which had his ticket inserted between the pages. It would be several hours before they reached Canberra, and Jack hoped he’d be able to concentrate on the latest Zane Grey. He double-checked that the leather folio was still inside, then tucked the case between his feet.

“I can put that in the net, if you like?” The gentleman on his right said.

“I’m sorry?” Jack looked at the man, who gestured to his bag, then up to the holding net above their heads. “Oh, no thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” the man said. He flashed a smile—his teeth were very white against his olive-dark skin—and settled into his seat. “I like to relax on these trips, myself.” He held out his hand. “Chambers. Hector Chambers.”

Jack shook the man’s hand, a little bemused. “Jack Robinson.” 

Chambers gestured out the window. “This is the way to travel, don’t you think, Jack?” 

Jack tilted his head at the other man. He hadn’t expected to have company on this trip—would have preferred not to have company, really, but maybe this was a good thing. He could use the distraction.

“I wouldn’t know,” Jack said, deliberately not using the man’s first name. “I’ve never traveled by lightning rail before.”

“No? Well, it’s a marvel, let me tell you.” Chambers took out a cigar and inserted it between his lips. Withdrawing a gold lighter from his pocket, he lit the end and took a deep drag. “I hate to fly, and this contraption—” he waved his hand, the cigar held between long fingers “—means that I don’t have to.”

“I rather like to fly,” Jack murmured, remembering the sight of first Melbourne, then the whole of Australia, then the Earth itself diminishing into the distance as _Lady Oddly_ took off. 

Glancing out the window, Jack noticed how the landscape blurred as the car was hurled along the raised tracks at more than a hundred miles an hour. The rail car was shaped for speed, with rounded ends and ceilings, and fitted out for comfort, but the view was a bit disconcerting. Even knowing that the raised tracks both kept the native wildlife from wandering into the train’s path and allowed the train to take an almost straight line with no detours to compensate for Australia’s rough terrain, he thought that he’d try to avoid this type of travel in the future.

“Not me,” his seatmate said, and Jack looked back at him. “Can’t stand heights.” Chambers shuddered. “At least this thing is anchored to the ground.”

Jack acknowledged this with a slight shrug. 

“Its only problem is that the electricity it takes to move it has to be generated by coal, and the smoke will eventually choke us the way it’s choking London, Shanghai, and New York.” Chambers puffed idly on his cigar, but Jack thought he was not as relaxed as his posture was meant to convey. “There’s a market for some sort of air-cleaning device, isn’t there?” His voice was casual, but his eyes cut toward Jack, then down to the briefcase that sat between his feet. “An enterprising man could make a profit on something like that.”

Jack turned slowly to look at Chambers, his own muscles readying for action. “What did you say you did, Mr. Chambers?”

“I’m a businessman, Jack.” Chambers’ tone changed to matter-of-fact. “And like any good businessman, I watch for opportunity.” He turned to look at Jack. “If you were to… lose that case on the train, I could make it very worth your while.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He let the silence drag out, and his voice, when he finally spoke, dripped with ice. “I think you’d better change your seat, Mr. Chambers, before I decide to arrest you for bribery and industrial espionage.”

“Oh, now Jack, there’s no need for that!” Chambers’ smile appeared again, charming and bright, and he held up his hands, palms out. “Surely we can discuss this?”

“Move. Now.” Jack’s growl was nearly feral, and Chambers’ eyes widened before he covered his alarm with that smile.

“I meant no offense, sir,” he said smoothly as he stood. “Thank you for your time.” Striding up the car, he dropped into a seat a few rows forward. Jack saw him take out a handkerchief and wipe the back of his neck before turning to the older woman in the seat beside him and turning on the charm.

Reaching down to his case, Jack looped the strap over his left wrist. He wondered whether that was the man Phryne had been intending to sell the plans to, or if he was a competitor. Regardless, Jack would report him back to the chief to make sure that he was being watched.

Settling back into his seat, he tried to focus on his book. After a while, he gave it up and let his thoughts wander. He would be back to his regular job in a day or two, and his life would take on a predictable rhythm again. Looking back, he tried to remember what that rhythm had been, before Phryne Fisher. He laughed a little to himself, shaking his head. BPF. Would he really be measuring his life that way, going forward? At any rate, BPF, there had been work, of course, and the occasional pickup footy game followed by a beer down the pub with his mates. And there had been women—lovely women—though none of them had been a black-haired air captain whose kisses were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. 

Sighing at his own melancholy, Jack endured the rest of the three-hour trip in silence. Once the rail car reached Canberra, Jack joined the flow of passengers leaving. He kept an eye on Hector Chambers, wondering whether the man would attempt to get the plans from him another way, since bribery hadn’t worked. He tossed the shoulder strap of his case over his head to make it harder to grab and clattered quickly down the stairs from the raised platform. Stepping out into the street beneath the platform, Jack raised a hand to hail a steamcab. He was traveling in style today, he thought wryly.

The cab that hissed to a halt before him was shaped almost like a brougham, tall and narrow, with a single seat inside. Its shining enamel was deep blue, and its tall spoked wheels came almost to Jack’s waist. The driver sat on a raised bench, his steering wheel mounted to the large square engine that would propel the cab along the street. Piping ran down the side of the engine and under the step into the cab before rising up along the back corners; steam puffed gently from the angled tops where they protruded above the roof.

“Where to, mate?” The cabbie sat his driver’s seat easily despite his bulk; his round belly rested comfortably atop his thighs, and his arms were heavy with muscle. He leaned away from Jack to spit into the street, and his lower lip worked to contain the bulge of his tobacco.

“Parliament House, please,” Jack responded, climbing up into the cab. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced down the street to where he’d seen Hector Chambers stop. The big man was leaning into a shiny black automobile—not a cab, this one, judging by the winged maiden adorning its bonnet—and talking urgently to its driver. Jack swung inside the cab and settled himself on the bench seat, holding onto the window frame as the cab jolted into motion. If Chambers was following him, he’d need to be braced for anything when they reached his destination.

Jack kept an eye on Chambers’ motorcar as they drove—it was definitely following him, and he spared a moment to be thankful that he was delivering the plans directly to the prime minister today. If he’d had to wait, he had no doubt that Chambers could marshal enough assistance to forcibly take the plans from him. The thought that he could deliver the plans alone had been based on the assumption that no one knew about them. Jack would have to warn the chief that there might be an informant who’d leaked Jack’s route to Chambers.

As the cab pulled up in front of the massive columns of the Parliament House, Jack dropped the appropriate coins into the meter mounted beside the door. By the time the cab stopped, he was ready—he pushed open the door and stepped out, then ran lightly up the wide marble stairs. Turning to scan the street as he reached for the door, he watched Chambers’ car roll slowly past. With a slight smile, he turned to head inside.

After the excitement of the journey from the rail car station, the meeting with the prime minister was anticlimactic. Jack handed over the folio, which the PM passed off to an aide, who hurried out of the office trailed by two large security officers. The PM thanked Jack for his work, shook his hand, and sent him on his way. Bemused, Jack found himself back out in the hall no more than ten minutes after he’d arrived. 

Shaking his head at his own assumption that there would have been more to it than that, Jack asked the PM’s secretary where he could find a telephone so that he could check in with his superior officer. She directed him to a tiny room intended for the press corps’ use; it held nothing but a telephone and a waist-high table with a drawer full of paper and pencils. When Jack closed the door, he gave silent thanks that he didn’t have trouble with small spaces. 

The call to Russell Street rang through quickly, and in just a few moments, Jack was speaking to Concetta Fabrizzi. Her voice was cool and restrained as she told him that the chief was not available at the moment.

“He’s out?” Jack wondered whether he should report to anyone else, but he wasn’t sure who this information should go to.

“ _Si_ , he is away. But he asked me to tell you when you checked in that you should report back here on your return.”

“All right. I should be back in just a few hours.” Jack wondered whether he could get on an earlier rail car—he’d go to the station and find out.

“He said he would wait here for your return,” Concetta said. 

“Thank you, Con—” Jack stopped himself before using her first name. It seemed ungentlemanly, now that they were no longer going to be lovers. He didn’t want to hurt her by using her last name, however, so he just repeated himself. “Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Inspector Robinson,” she murmured. 

Jack closed his eyes at the distance those two words created. Before he could respond, she’d hung up. He replaced the receiver of his telephone slowly, wishing that things could be different, that he’d fallen head over heels in love with Concetta rather than Phryne. Jaw tight, he shook his head. If wishes were horses…

Feeling slightly foolish—he didn’t feel particularly threatened by Hector Chambers, but he wanted to make sure that the man’s name was recorded—he withdrew a piece of paper and a pencil from the writing desk. With quick strokes, he wrote a report of his encounters with the businessman, detailing the man’s words and his physical description while it was fresh in his mind. When he was finished, he folded the paper and tucked it inside his book. At best, he’d have the information if the chief wanted him to write up a report; at worst, if something should happen to him, someone might find it and be able to act on it.

Opening the door to the telephone room, he strode down the hallway, looping his briefcase strap over his head again. He needed to get back and report to the chief. Then he could retreat to his home and figure out what life APF would look like.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late—going on ten o’clock in the evening—when Jack finally made it back to the chief’s office at Russell Street. The trip from Canberra had been uneventful, with no sign of Hector Chambers or any other suspicious-looking followers. Jack had purchased his dinner from yet another cart and eaten it on the rail car, and he’d spent the trip working up a comprehensive report of his mission. He didn’t spare himself in the telling, but he didn’t include the prurient details of why he had been absent from his cabin for most of the return trip. Hart would fill in the blanks.

Moving slowly up the stairs to Hart’s Russell Street office, Jack wondered why this debriefing had to happen tonight. He was exhausted by the travel and the adrenaline, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed. Still, Hart was the chief, so Jack didn’t argue.

Concetta’s desk was empty, and Jack felt a quick rush of relief. He’d have to face her again sometime, he knew, but he was thankful that it wasn’t tonight. He stepped past it to the chief commissioner’s open office door; pausing in the doorway, he rapped his knuckle on the doorjamb to announce his presence.

“Ah, Robinson! Come in, come in.” Hart sat at his desk, paperwork spread around him and a glass of what looked like whiskey at his elbow. He looked Jack up and down, then stood to pour another glass, which he handed to Jack as he came to sit. “Here, you look like you could use it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jack said, lifting the glass to his nose. The aroma was divine—not Tyrellian, but not the cheap stuff that Jack could afford, either.

“So, Jack—may I call you Jack?” Hart walked back around his desk and topped off his own glass, shooting Jack a quick look.

“Of course,” Jack responded, slightly baffled by the unaccustomed familiarity of the chief’s tone.

“I suppose you’re wondering what about this debriefing can’t wait, hm?” Hart seated himself behind his desk and leaned back in his chair, whiskey in hand.

“Well, I did have some additional information to share, sir, but I’ll admit, I think it could have waited till morning.” Jack pulled his briefcase strap over his head, setting it beside his chair before leaning back and taking a sip of whiskey.

“Oh? What information was that?” 

Jack filled him in quickly about the run-in with Hector Chambers and the possibility of an informant closer to hand, and by the time he was finished, Hart was nodding. 

“Good work, Robinson. We hadn’t been looking at Chambers for this one, but I’ll put a man on him in the morning. He’s not the worst of them, but he does bear watching. And if we do have a mole in the office, we’ll find him.” He took a drink and eyed Jack as he rolled the whiskey around in his mouth.

“I’ll put all of the details in my report, sir—I have a rough version now, but I can finish it by morning, if you…” Jack trailed off as Hart waved a hand at him.

“Take a couple of days for that, Jack. It’s important to have the report in writing, of course, but much of this operation has to stay unsaid. You understand.”

Jack nodded. He did understand. If news of this technology were to get out before it was proven to work, it could be very bad public relations for the prime minister should anything go wrong. Better that only a few knew of it.

“With that in mind, I’d like to fill you in on the _other_ operation that was going on at the same time as yours.”

Jack nodded again, but then stopped, realizing that he didn’t know what operation Hart was referring to. “Other operation, sir?”

“Yes.” Hart regarded him seriously over the lip of his glass. “I’ll be honest with you, Jack. I’m not supposed to tell you any of this. But it’s after hours, we’re just two blokes having a drink—” he lifted his glass to Jack, who responded in kind, baffled “—and you deserve to know, as you were instrumental in making this operation go off as well as it did. I think I can trust you not to talk about this to anyone else. Am I right about that?”

Jack felt his eyebrows rising, and he swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, you can.”

“Good. Well. STEEL was working hand-in-glove with the Australian Secret Service on this one, Jack.” The bald statement made Jack blink. “The captain of the _Lady Oddly_ was under orders to make a copy—an unusable copy, you understand—of those plans in order to draw out an information broker whose contacts are farther-reaching than any of us wants to admit.”

Jack sat up in his chair, his hand tightening around his glass. “The captain?”

“Indeed. She took the altered plans to an arranged meet with that broker this afternoon, and STEEL agents apprehended him with them shortly thereafter.” Hart took another sip of his drink. “Because this was a matter of national interest, we made the call before the trip that only she and a select few of her crew could know the details about this operation. She promised that she would not tell anyone else.”

“And she never breaks a promise,” Jack murmured, his thoughts winging back to that second morning in Caragnana, when she’d promised that she would never lie to him. All at once, it felt as if he’d shed an invisible weight, and his mind raced. If she’d never lied to him, then when she’d said he was more than business to her… He felt a pang of remorse for the way he’d left her that morning, and he cursed himself for letting his hurt get in the way of what he knew about her. He needed to see her.

“She doesn’t, no.” The chief drained his glass and set it with a click on his desk, then began gathering up his papers. “And as she is also my goddaughter, and as dear to me as the children of my blood,” he met Jack’s shocked gaze with his own smiling one, “I am rather glad that you know that about her.”

“Sir, I—I didn’t… I mean…” Jack stumbled, wiping a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stop the words that were bumbling past his lips. He cleared his throat and looked at his chief—his lover’s father, for all intents and purposes—with his heart in his eyes. “She is an amazing woman, sir.”

“And I’m pleased that you are aware of that, too,” Hart said as he stood. 

Jack stood as well, downing the last swallow of his whiskey and setting his glass on the chief’s desk. “Thank you, sir.” He said, picking up his case. “For the drink and the information.”

“My pleasure, inspector,” Hart replied easily. “And now it’s time for me to go home to my wife, and for you to go… wherever you may be going at this hour.” 

He smiled, his mustache twitching, and Jack found his own mouth lifting at the corners. With a nod, Jack preceded the chief out of his office. They walked together down to the lobby, where Hart turned toward his motorcar. 

“Can I give you a lift home, Jack?” The older man asked, his hand on the top of his car’s door.

“Thank you, sir, but no. I… have somewhere else I need to go.” 

“Well, then. I don’t expect you back in the office until Monday. Three days at home should give you enough time to be rested and ready to get back to work.” With that, Hart smiled again and tipped his hat before climbing into his car. Jack returned the gesture before turning his steps toward the docks. 

After walking the first block, Jack found himself speeding up, his regular pace turning into a slow jog, and then into a run. His feet pounded out a steady, increasing rhythm, and his thoughts followed, racing with the implications of what the chief had said. Jack’s case bumped against his hip and he slung it over his head, one hand holding it still as he continued to run, his relief making his steps light.

He reached the dock where _Lady Oddly_ hung, tethered tightly, her solar sails furled and her steam engines lightly purring. Breath heaving in his lungs, Jack slowed to a walk as he made his way down the pier. When he reached the bow of the ship, he looked up, his eyes scanning for whoever was on watch; his stomach twisted when he recognized the many-armed form of the ship’s cook.

“Good evening, Mr. Robinson,” Mr. Butler called. His voice was welcoming, though Jack could hear a guardedness in it that hadn’t been there before.

“Hello, Mr. Butler,” Jack called up. “May I come aboard? I need to speak to the captain.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Mr. Butler responded, “but Captain Fisher is not receiving visitors this evening. I will let her know that you came by.”

Jack’s heart fell. He hadn’t even considered that she wouldn’t want to see him. He glanced at his watch. It was late—perhaps she’d already retired for the evening. 

“Ah,” he said, dumbly. “Thank you, Mr. Butler. Would you… would you let her know that I will call again tomorrow, please?”

“Of course, sir.” Mr. Butler was pleasant but firm. “Good night now.”

“Good night.” His steps dragging, Jack turned and made his way back up the dock. The short distance to his small house seemed to take an eternity. He wondered whether she was only “not at home” to him—when he arrived at the ship tomorrow, would she turn him away again?

Reaching his door, he let himself in, hanging his hat and coat on their accustomed hooks in the entryway. Moving back toward his bedroom, he stripped off his jacket and tie; turning on the light, he realized that two months without a tenant had done nothing for the cleanliness of his household; he’d noticed the dust when he’d been here earlier, but had forgotten it in the events of the day. He’d have to at least change the sheets before he’d be able to sleep here, and as he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep anytime soon, he might as well get the rest of the cleaning over with. With a sigh, he changed out of his suit into some gardening clothes and got to work.

 

* * *

 

Phryne Fisher was trying to get drunk. She sat at the table in her cabin across from her best friend, her third glass of the best whiskey in the galaxy in hand. Her silk caftan billowed around her legs where she’d propped her bare feet against the table’s edge, her chair tilted backward on two legs. 

“You’re going to be sick, or crack your head open,” Mac observed dryly, “either way, I’ll have to clean you up.” The doctor lounged in her own chair, her legs stretched out before her, her collar open and her cravat crumpled on the table beside her whiskey glass. 

“Psssh,” Phryne said, waving a hand. “I’m drowning my sorrows, Mac.” She shook her head, then pointed at Mac with the index finger of the hand that held her whiskey. “Men. Can’t live with them, can’t hit them with an axe.” Taking another swig of her drink, she swallowed, then sighed. “It’s just… I thought he’d be here by now.”

“He might not even be back from—where was it?” Mac took a swallow of her drink, baring her teeth at the burn.

“Canberra.”

“Long way away.” She gestured with her glass. “I’d guess that when he has a chance to speak to the chief, he’ll beat feet to your door—er, ship. Whichever.” Mac shook her head. “And if he doesn’t, if he decides you’re too much trouble—”

“I am trouble,” Phryne nodded sagely.

“—then good riddance to him. You’ve only known the man two months, Phryne! What do you really know about him?” Mac’s nonmechanical eye narrowed, and she leaned forward.

“Well,” Phryne responded. Her smile sly, she set her chair thumping down on all of its legs while she reached for the whiskey bottle, “I know that he can do absolutely _amazing_ things with his tongue. This one time—”

“Mm, ech, no,” Mac cut her off, sitting back again in retreat. “Spare me the details, will you?”

Phryne smirked, but then the smile fell away and she sighed, setting her elbows on the table and cradling her glass between both hands. 

“Honestly, Mac, I have no idea. He’s not _that_ different from the other men I’ve had in my bed, is he? I mean, he’s smart and funny, and he rarely reacts the way I think he will… He’s verytalented when it comes to lovemaking, too.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what it is about him, but I know that I hurt him. Even if I never have him in my bed again, I want to apologize for that.”

“You’re in love with him.” Mac’s words were a statement of fact. 

Phryne lifted her eyes to meet her friend’s, and she felt the warmth of Mac’s regard wash over her. Mac liked Jack too, Phryne knew—Jack had never allowed the alterations to her friend’s physical form to hinder his regard for the woman she was. And she wasn’t the only one; the whole crew liked him. He’d made a point over the journey to meet them, learn their names, and talk to them as much as each was comfortable with. All out of genuine interest. 

She liked him, very much. She enjoyed the pleasure he could give her body, and his obvious respect for her skills—unlike most of the other men she’d known (carnally and otherwise), he had never attempted to second-guess her command of her ship—but it was more than that. There had been no lack of conversation between them, before, during, and after sex, and that was rare in a lover. He treated her like an equal—like a partner. A partner who gave her really good orgasms.

Phryne nodded slightly, then shrugged, holding her friend’s gaze. “What I feel may not matter, Mac. I have no idea how a long-term relationship between us could work. I’m gone for months at a time, and I’ve got to admit, I really like sex.” 

Mac snorted, and Phryne smiled sadly as she sat back in her chair and met her friend’s eyes. “I won’t apologize for that. My point is, that’s a long time to be celibate—and though I could make and keep the promise, it’d chafe. Besides, he likes sex as much as I do! It just seems like too much to ask either of us.” Sighing, she let her hands fall to her lap, leaving her whiskey glass on the table. “He’s a liberal-minded man, but how liberal is he, really?”

“Perhaps you should talk with him about that. He might surprise you.” Mac arched red eyebrows as she finished her whiskey and set the glass on the table. “But not until morning, methinks—you’re in no fit state right now.”

Phryne laughed a little, pushing away from the table. “No, you’re right—I’m going to want all of my faculties for that conversation.” She stood up, wobbled a little, and caught herself on the back of a chair.

Mac chuckled and stood, sliding an arm around Phryne’s waist and turning her toward her bunk. “Best you get a good night’s sleep first, I think. Doctor’s orders. And who knows? He might be here before you wake up.”

Phryne smiled at that, remembering what it felt like to wake up wrapped in Jack’s arms. “If he is, feel free to send him in to wake me, all right?” Her laugh was low and throaty. “Jack is very good at waking me up. It’s a particularly invigorating way to start the day.”

“Oh, I believe it—you’ve been positively perky in the mornings this past month. I had to attribute it to something more than coffee.” Leaning over, Mac pulled back the sheets, then helped Phryne lie down. She pulled the covers over her friend, then paused to smooth the hair out of Phryne’s face.

Her eyes closing, Phryne mumbled, “If he isn’t here in the morning, you can bet that I’ll go and find him.”

“I have no doubt of that. Now sleep.” Even as she drifted, Phryne could hear the smile in Mac’s voice.

Nodding, Phryne rolled to her side, tucking her hands under her spinning head. She sank into slumber before she even heard Mac leave the room.

 

* * *

 

Jack woke to sunlight warm on his face, and he stretched, taking a deep, satisfying breath. The night before, he’d managed to clean his entire small house, even taking the time to make a loaf of bread for the morning. Falling exhausted into bed in the early hours of the morning, he’d been sure that he’d only sleep a little while; he was eager to head over to the docks again. 

He sat up straight in bed. The docks. Phryne! Whirling, his eyes sought his watch, which ticked quietly on his bedside table. Could it really be past noon? He scrambled out of bed, pulling his pajama top over his head and practically running into his washroom to stoke the boiler so that the washwater could heat while he laid out his clothes. 

When he stepped into the shower, it felt ridiculously roomy after the tiny cubicle showers the ship had been equipped with—even Phryne’s was barely wider than his shoulders. Relishing the elbow room, he washed himself efficiently, realizing that he probably should have showered after cleaning the night before. Dust swirled down the drain, and he made a mental note to change the sheets again before he headed out.

Even with that chore added to his list, it was less than an hour before he was shrugging into his shirt, a piece of jammy toast held between his teeth as he did up his buttons and tucked his shirttails in to pull his braces up and across his shoulders. He was just pouring the last of the tea—how he wished he’d had a chance to get to the shops for milk—when there was a knock at his front door.

Cursing softly, he considered ignoring it; he needed to get to the docks. With a sigh, he supposed he should at least see who it was—he didn’t get many visitors, and this one might be important. Swallowing his tea, he lifted his second piece of toast and took a bite as he headed toward the door, his bare feet silent on the polished floors. 

Still chewing, he pulled open the door and froze. Captain Phryne Fisher looked up at him, her hands behind her back in her captain’s pose and her face serious. Jack swallowed the lump of bread in his mouth, his throat suddenly dry.

“Phryne,” he croaked. She was as beautiful as ever, her hair glossy and smooth, her blue eyes bright within their thicket of dark lashes. Her lips glistened as if she’d just licked them, and he wanted nothing more than to cover them with his own. 

“Hello, Jack,” she replied softly, those lips moving, her white teeth flashing within the dark pink cave of her mouth.

He stared, transfixed, for the space of five heartbeats before managing to recover. “Please, come in,” he said with a shake of his head, stepping back and opening the door wide.

Wordlessly, she moved inside. She wore the same red-and-brown outfit she’d worn the first day he’d seen her, and he remembered relieving her of the outfit’s striped skirt and leather corset more than once during their time together. He knew that she favored red, partly because it favored her so well. It was the color that he most often associated with her. 

“Um, I’d offer you refreshments, but all I seem to have in the house is bread and tea—would you like some toast and jam?” He lifted his piece, with its bite out of one corner.

Holding his eyes, Phryne reached out and plucked the toast from his fingers, then brought it to her mouth. Jack suppressed a smile—she had stolen his toast many mornings in the last month—and felt a rush of hope. Perhaps all wasn’t lost.

Phryne chewed and swallowed, then spoke. “We need to talk.”

Jack’s urge to smile vanished, and he nodded. “I tried to come by the ship last night,” he said quietly, gesturing toward his parlor. He was suddenly suddenly glad that he’d cleaned it last night. 

“You did?” Her look of surprise was unfeigned.

“Mr. Butler said you weren’t receiving visitors,” Jack acknowledged with a small shrug. “I was planning to come this morning, but… I overslept.”

She sent him an arch look, and he realized what he’d said. He shook his head with a small smile.

“I admire Mr. B’s determination to protect me,” Phryne went on, not commenting on his slip, “as I was rather less than my usual self last night.” She glanced at him from under her lashes. “Mac and I shared most of a bottle of Tyrellian whiskey.” Blinking, she looked away. “Even so, I’ll have to have a chat with him about overstepping his bounds.”

Jack followed Phryne into the parlor, trying to see the small room through her eyes. His favorite leather chair sat close beside the coal stove; there were a couple of trophies on the mantel, along with other memorabilia of the bicycling and footy he enjoyed. The back wall was bookshelves all the way to the twelve-foot ceiling, and he had a ladder that ran on a track about eight feet up that he used to get to the books stored up high. The shelves were full, and organized by topic and author; a photograph of his late wife sat on one shelf, and one of his parents graced another. The space was warm and very much _him_. He hoped Phryne would be comfortable in it.

She stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face him, the humor that had been in her eyes a moment before now absent.

“Phryne, I’m so—”

“Jack, I owe—” 

They spoke at the same time, breaking off in unison. Phryne’s lips twitched, and Jack took advantage of the moment to speak.

“Please, may I go first?” 

Phryne gave a go-ahead gesture with one hand and took another bite of toast, wrapping her free hand around her waist as she chewed.

Jack cleared his throat and swiped his hands on the sides of his trousers. With a small wave of his hand, he invited Phryne to sit, and she settled herself on his small sofa. Hesitating a moment, Jack perched on the edge of his worn armchair, elbows on his knees.

“I need to start with an apology. Yesterday morning, I—I didn’t even give you a chance to defend yourself. I just left.” He swallowed hard and clasped his hands together, forcing himself to meet her eyes. She had an excellent poker face, and she used it now. “I have no excuse, really. It was badly done of me, and I am sorry for it.” He clenched his jaw. “I know who you are, and how much you value your integrity. I should have trusted you.”

Phryne looked at him. “Yes, you should have.”

Jack flinched. He hadn’t expected her to be quite so blunt. He opened his mouth to speak again, not sure what he planned to say, but she cut him off.

“You should have trusted me,” she repeated softly, “but I owe you an apology too. I knew that you would be hurt if you found out what we were doing, and I should have told you.” Her lips tightened, and she met Jack’s eyes; he could see the regret in them, and his heart lifted a tiny bit.

“You made a promise,” he murmured. 

“Yes, but I could have said something,” she insisted, her free hand clenching into a fist, the toast hanging forgotten from the fingers of the other. 

Jack shook his head. “No, you couldn’t have. Chief Hart told me what you’d been commissioned to do, but I should have known that you wouldn’t endanger innocent people.”

She shook her head at him. “So you know about my… affiliation with law enforcement?”

“Yes,” Jack confirmed. “He didn’t give me many details, just enough to know that we’re on the same side.” 

Nodding, Phryne blew out a breath, then leaned forward to set the half-eaten piece of toast on the table. “I hope that you can forgive me for keeping things from you, Jack.”

Jack shook his head, then hurried into speech when he saw her expression fall. “No, Phryne—” he reached out a hand to her, and she met it with hers “—you haven’t done anything wrong. You were doing your job.” Jack slid his fingers between hers, pressing their palms together; Phryne watched their hands, her small smile relieved. “But can you forgive me for not believing in you?”

“I’ve been reminded that you and I haven’t actually known each other long, though it feels as though we have,” she said quietly. “You had reason to jump to the conclusion you did, and I heard that you searched the rest of the ship before you came to my safe. That shows a level of trust—”

“Of hope, really,” Jack demurred, lifting their twined hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“—that I’m not sure I had truly earned yet.” Phryne finished. 

Jack met her eyes and tugged on her hand, pushing back in his chair so that she could move over to slide into his lap. When she did, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck; she slid her arms around his shoulders, her fingers burrowing into his hair and her breath sweet on his cheek.

“So yes, Jack, I can forgive you for not knowing me as well as I wanted you to.” Her voice dropped to hardly more than a whisper as she continued. “Maybe with more time, that will change?”

“Phryne,” he whispered, his throat aching, “please can we have more time?” He’d thought that he would never get to hold her again, and her presence in his arms filled the empty place he’d been carrying in his heart.

She tugged at his hair, and he lifted his head to look into her eyes. Pulling one hand from her waist up to cup her cheek, he brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. She stroked the short hairs at the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine, and murmured his name before settling her lips over his.

Jack’s eyes closed at the touch of her mouth against his. They weren’t fine yet—there was too much more they had yet to address—but he was greedy enough to want this, to want her, for as long as it was possible. They would talk more later, and if they couldn’t come to agreement… He pushed the thought away for now and let himself fall into the physical connection that had never been an issue for them.

Her kiss was soft at first, an almost chaste brushing of mouth over mouth, but before long, he felt the hard edge of her teeth against the inner surface of his bottom lip. He groaned softly and tilted his head to kiss her more fully, his mouth opening and his tongue slipping alongside hers. Phryne pressed herself close, curling into his embrace as she kissed him back, one hand sliding to cup around his neck. 

The heat between them grew, and soon Phryne was tugging at his buttons, her palms stroking along his shoulders beneath his shirt. Jack slid the hand on her face down her neck and across her chest; the seams in her corset bumped along his fingertips, and the leather was warm to the touch. His hand covered her small breast, his fingers delving under the corset’s upper edge, trying to reach her softness, before he moved his hands behind her to tug at the garment’s hooks. 

“Jack,” she breathed, her hand wrapping around his braces, “where is your bed?”

Dropping her corset to the floor, Jack trailed his mouth down her neck, enjoying her gasps of pleasure. When she arched backward to give him clear access to her breasts, their hardened tips clear against the silk of her red blouse, Jack instead slid an arm under her knees and rose from the chair with her in his arms.

Phryne laughed out loud as he strode with her out of the parlor and down the hall, and he grinned in return. Reaching his bedroom, he dropped her on the bed, where she bounced lightly; she watched, her tongue touching her upper lip, as he pulled off first his braces and then his shirt. When he was naked from the waist up, he crawled over her on the bed, knees between hers and hands on either side of her shoulders. He looked down at her, suddenly struck by the fact that she was here, with him. 

“I’m not ready to lose this,” he whispered, the words rising up from a place deep inside to hang like smoke on the air of the room.

Phryne stilled for a moment, her eyes searching his, her hands on his chest. The smile the bloomed over her face was at once pleased and shy, and she slid her hands up to cradle his jaw.

“Neither am I,” she admitted. “Make love to me, Jack?”

“Always,” he replied, and dipped his head to kiss her as she rose to meet him, her eyes open. Jack focused on her mouth for long moments, feeling the plush softness of her lips, the warm, wet slide of her tongue. Her flavor was as explosive now as it had been the first time he’d kissed her—now, instead of Tyrellian whiskey, she tasted lightly of strawberry jam, and under that, it was just Phryne. It had been barely twenty-four hours since he’d kissed her, but he devoured her as if he was starved.

She arched against him, the silk of her blouse soft against his chest, the tips of her nipples hard. The sensation was lovely, but he wanted her skin. Tilting to one side, he gathered the fabric of her blouse in one hand, lifting his head to pull it upward over her head and arms, where Phryne grasped it to pull it completely off. They both groaned as their chests touched; Jack held her gaze as he lowered his hand to cover her breast. Phryne caught her lower lip between her teeth as he rolled her nipple gently between his fingers, and Jack reveled in the textural differences between her velvety breast and the pebbled skin surrounding her nipple.

Keeping his eyes on hers, he slid down the bed to replace his fingers with his mouth, and Phryne let out a soft mewling noise of pleasure, her legs parting farther to cradle him between them. He applied himself to her breasts, using fingers and tongue to draw her beaded nipples even tighter, loving the way her hips shifted against him and her fingers curled into his hair. 

“Oh, god, Jack,” she gasped as he sucked hard at one nipple while pinching the other; he felt her shudder and released her, rubbing his face across the soft flesh of her breasts. Phryne pulled at his hair, lifting his head up so that he could meet her eyes.

“Come up here so I can kiss you, Jack Robinson,” she gasped. 

Smiling, he shook his head. “I have somewhere else I need to be, Captain Fisher,” he said, his voice low and gravelly with anticipation. Her confused look dissolved into one of understanding as he slid lower on the bed, flipping her skirts up and out of his way. He caught the sides of her knickers with both hands and held her eyes as he drew them down her legs and over her boots. 

Sliding his hands up her calves, his thumbs bumping over the multitude of buckles on her boots, he tilted his head at her, his lips tilting at the corners. “We’ll just have to work around these, won’t we? I’ve always liked them.” 

“You might like them less when they’re digging into your back,” she laughed, fumbling at the waistband of her skirts.

“I’ll take my chances,” Jack said. Not waiting for her skirts to be undone, he buried his head between her thighs. First, he ran his lips over the soft swell of her belly below the waistband of her petticoats before whispering kisses down the crease where her thigh and hip met, brushing his cheek against the soft furring of hair that covered her mons.

Phryne bent her knees, planting her heels against the mattress and gathering her skirts in both hands to get them out of the way. Jack obliged her, tucking his nose into the hollow of her hip and breathing in the mingled scents of perfume, arousal, and Phryne that had become his favorite smell in the world. Sliding his hands under her bottom, one hand on each cheek, he lifted her slightly, his mouth watering with anticipation. With the flat of his tongue, he stroked the outer lips of her sex, drawing in the flavors of her arousal before burrowing deeper. 

 

* * *

 

Phryne let her head fall backward onto Jack’s very comfortable bed as her inspector used his fingers and tongue to fuck her into oblivion. She was aware that it was still possible for this to be goodbye, that they might not be able to find a way to be together. Still, she had him for now, and she would enjoy every minute.

He continued the magic of his mouth, his tongue sliding into her body while his fingers pressed and tickled at her clit. She could feel her orgasm building in the muscles of her thighs, and she gave in to the urge to clench them around his head. In response, he switched the positions of his mouth and his hand, thrusting two fingers deep inside her as he suckled lightly at her clit. With a scream, she broke, her body shuddering with release; he rode it out with her, his hot breath fanning across her spasming flesh, his fingers held tightly against the front wall of her passage. She thought she heard him speak, but she couldn’t understand the words he said; the vibration of his voice only heightened the sensations rocketing through her.

She cried out as he pulled away, but he shushed her gently. With her eyes closed—she should open them—she heard the slide of a nearby drawer and the rustle of cloth, and then he was back, his cock lying hard and long and hot between her legs. Forcing her eyes open, she looked up at him where he lay over her, his blue eyes blazing with desire and the moisture of her body glistening on his cheeks. With a growl, she pushed up against him, rolling him to his back on the bed and planting her knees on either side of his hips. 

Jack growled in turn as he willingly rolled, his hands sliding up her sides to cover her breasts as she pulsed her hips against his. Phryne sat up, her hands again going to the fastenings of her skirts and making quick work of them. Jack helped her pull skirts and petticoats up and over her head all at once, and she finally sat above him in nothing but her tall boots. Planting her hands on his chest, she rolled her hips against his cock. He’d shed his trousers and underthings, and—she glanced down—donned a sheath, ready to come inside her. Reaching down, she took him in hand, stroking him strongly before running her thumb over his tip.

“Please, Phryne,” he gritted out, and she glanced up at his face to see his jaw muscle working as he clenched his teeth.

Leaning forward, she lapped softly at his nipple as she flattened her hand under his cock, holding it tightly against herself as she slid her sex along his length. He groaned with pleasure, his hands on her hips urging her faster. With a swift, sure movement, she flexed her knees and placed him at her entrance, then pressed quickly downward to take him in all the way to the root. She cried out at the invasion of her swollen tissues, which was so pleasurable that it bordered on pain. Her body prone atop his, she kissed him, her mouth avid and her hips still as she waited for her body to become accustomed to the stretch of accommodating him.

Before long, she could not stay still anymore, and she rose over him, her hips beginning a small pulsing motion that slowly built until she couldn’t focus on anything but the rhythmic slide of his body within hers and the blue of his eyes. His lips moved in what looked like her name, and she leaned forward again, planting her hands beside his head as she took him in, over and over, relishing the length of each stroke.

“Fuck, Phryne, I’m… I’m close, I…” Jack panted, his face constricting as his orgasm approached. “Go over, Phryne, go over!”

“You first, Jack,” she retorted, adding a twist of her hips to each thrust down his cock. “You go.” Her own words were breathless, and she felt his stomach contract against hers as he obeyed.

His arms wrapped around her, big hands stroking up her back to clasp the nape of her neck and hold her close, his shout of completion muffled against her shoulder. His hips jerked, his feet scrubbing against the covers as he came, his release going on and on. Phryne didn’t expect to come again, but when Jack’s teeth closed on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, she felt herself shatter, her muscles releasing all at once so that she collapsed against his chest, her arms crossing over his head and her breath heaving in her lungs.

They lay in silence for a long time, their bodies connected, sweat drying on their skin. Eventually, Phryne rolled to one side and Jack got up to dispose of the condom. Sitting up, she removed her boots, dropping them off the side of the bed, and picked up his discarded shirt. Tugging it on, she breathed deeply of its Jack-smell before moving to tuck under the sheets. Warm and comfortable, she dozed a little and listened to him moving around. When he returned, he carried a tray on which a teapot steamed softly, its warming cozy patterned with orchids; china clinked as he settled the tray over her legs and climbed beneath the sheets beside her.

“I was rather enjoying that view,” she murmured, sitting up. He hadn’t bothered with clothing as he’d made tea, and a naked Jack was quite a sight.

Jack’s lips quirked in one of the almost-smiles that Phryne loved, and he reached for the teapot. “Is that my shirt?”

Phryne glanced down at her chest. She’d buttoned it between her breasts, but no more than that; she could tell that he was enjoying the view. “Did you want it back, Jack?” Lifting her hands, she toyed with the button.

“Mm, in a bit,” he murmured. “I might have to charge you for its use.”

“I’ll pay whatever you want,” she purred, and was rewarded with a tilt of his head and slight pursing of his lips.

“I’ve no milk or lemon, I’m afraid,” he rumbled, changing the subject, “but there’s sugar.” He dropped two lumps into her cup, then poured the dark brew over the top; his own cup, he filled up plain. “And as I said, I have toast and jam.” He lifted the small plate cover with a flourish, exposing an artfully arranged plateful of toast triangles smeared with more of the strawberry jam that had been on the slice she’d stolen from him earlier.

“Delicious,” Phryne said, taking a piece in two fingers and making herself comfortable up against the headboard.

They ate quietly for a few moments, content to be together, neither eager to begin the discussion of what came next. Finally, Phryne broke the silence.

“I want us to be together, Jack,” she said softly, her hands wrapped warmly around her teacup.

Jack nodded, his face serious. “So do I.”

“But I’m gone a lot, and for long stretches of time.” She took a sip of tea, trying to formulate what needed to be said.

“I was thinking about that,” he agreed, “While we were still flying, actually.” He leaned forward to settle his cup on the tray, and Phryne followed suit. Lifting the tray, he turned and set it on the floor beside the bed. Phryne admired the shifting of his muscles beneath his skin, and had to remind herself that this was a conversation they needed to have.

He turned back to her and slid down in the bed; seemingly unaware of her regard, he tugged the pillows behind him so that he was only half reclining. Phryne curled up beside him, her hip against his, and toyed with the scattering of hair on his chest. His Adam’s apple worked as he swallowed, appearing to choose his words carefully.

“I don’t want to leave my job,” he admitted, lifting his hands to stroke her arms from shoulder to elbow. “I’m good at it, and I’m making a difference doing what I do.”

Phryne nodded, her stomach clenching. She flattened her hand on his chest. “I don’t want to leave my job either, for the same reasons.”

“I guessed as much.” Jack swallowed again. “So what if we start by saying we’ll be exclusive when you’re in Melbourne.”

Phryne stilled. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “And when I’m not in Melbourne?” She spoke the words slowly, searching his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Jack swallowed. He hoped that what he was about to propose would not offend her—he didn’t think they were ready for marriage, or even to make a long-term commitment to each other. They had only known each other for two months, after all.

“When you’re not here,” he went on carefully, watching her face, “I propose that we carry on as we did before we met. At least for now.” 

Phryne murmured something that he thought might have been “you always surprise me,” and then went on in a normal tone of voice, her face expressionless. “So just to be clear, you’re proposing that when I’m in town, we’re together, like this—” she waved a hand between them “—just the two of us, but when I’m not, we’re both free to take other lovers?”

Jack nodded, unsure of her reaction. “Listen, Phryne, I’m in love with you.” He smiled a little at her sharp intake of breath. “And I think that you might have feelings for me?” He searched her eyes, and the relief at her sharp nod was immense. He let out a breath, rubbing his hands on her arms again.

“But it’s like you said,” he went on, his voice gentle. “We don’t know each other very well, and there will be these long periods of time that we can’t be together, so maybe we can just,” he shrugged, “be together when we’re together? Get to know each other better, and see how it progresses?”

Phryne met his eyes, and the smile that lit them moved across her face like a sunrise. “I think that is a brilliant idea.”

Jack laughed a little with relief. “You do?”

“I really do,” she said, and leaned in to kiss him. “You have to promise me something, though,” she said, pulling back to rest her forehead against his.

“What’s that?”

“That we’ll talk to each other,” she said simply. “And if this arrangement becomes… untenable for either of us, we will say so.”

Jack leaned in, his hand sliding up to cup the back of her head and bring her mouth to his. When he’d tasted her thoroughly, they were both breathing hard. “I promise you that we’ll talk about this as we go on, and make whatever adjustments we can,” he said when he released her. “You’re too important to leave to chance.”

Phryne smiled. “I’m in love with you, Jack Robinson,” she whispered, and his heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. “Now let’s seal this bargain, shall we?”

“With a kiss?” He smiled up at her, unable to do anything else.

“A kiss,” she agreed as she swung one leg over his lap beneath the sheets. “And then a little something more.” With a grin, she lowered her lips to his, and he pulled her close, just to be certain they’d sealed it correctly.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since the dashing captain and her inspector returned from Caragnana. They're happy together, but a surprise announcement gives them a reason to examine the way their relationship is going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Thank all of you who've stuck with me on this one - it ended up taking far longer than I'd anticipated, so I really appreciate that you've come back. These two can fit so well within just about any time frame, can't they? I think it's a testament to the amazing writing of the Every Cloud staff and Kerry Greenwood that Phryne and Jack are well-rounded, three-dimensional characters. I just love them!
> 
> As a reminder, [the Kickstarter compaign](https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/468758721/miss-fisher-the-movie) for the movie is still going - if you haven't pledged yet, it's not too late! This fandom is powerful, and the show creators love us. I can't wait to see what Phryne and Jack will get up to next!

_One year later_

Jack lifted his head from between Phryne’s breasts as the telephone rang. They had only just fallen asleep, and he blinked blearily at the intrusive sound.

“Nnngh,” Phryne said eloquently, the sound making Jack smile. He’d missed her—she’d just come back to Melbourne after a three-month mission, and they’d spent a long time saying hello the night before. 

With a grunt, he levered himself up and padded on bare feet—and bare everything else—to the hallway to answer the summons of the bell. A quick glance at the ticker tape that protruded from the side of his telephonic call tracker showed him that the caller was at City South. Jack cleared his throat before answering, hoping that he wouldn’t sound as if he’d just woken up.

“Jack Robinson,” he said into the mouthpiece.

“Yes! Sir. Hello, sir.” Collins stammered a little nervously; Jack tilted his head, wondering why. He and the constable had become closer friends over the past year. Collins had even joined the pick-up footy club that Jack frequented—he was a very capable forward, and an asset to the team. With closer association, Hugh’s initial awe of his DI had faded, and he rarely got nervous around Jack anymore. So why was he nervous now?

“Constable,” Jack responded. “I know that you are aware that _Lady Oddly_ returned to port last night—is there a reason that you are calling me this morning?” Jack frowned a little. “And aren’t you supposed to be off today?”

“I am, sir, yes. Off, that is. I just—I came in to the station to use the telephone.”

“Ah.” Jack supposed that made sense. A telephone line wasn’t cheap, and though Jack had to have one for work reasons, Collins wasn’t high enough rank to need one. Waiting for Collins to come to the point, Jack propped a hand on his hip. He hoped the man would hurry up so that Jack could go back to bed and wake Phryne.

“Er, at any rate, sir, Dot and I wondered whether you and the captain would like to have dinner with us this evening.” Collins voice firmed, though the words came out as if rehearsed. He was more certain about this invitation than he had been about calling Jack at home, apparently.

Jack lifted his wrist to glance at his watch, forgetting that he’d left it on the nightstand last night. He thought it was still relatively early. “Dinner tonight? I’ll check with Phryne, but I think that would be fine.”

“Tell him the Windsor, seven o’clock,” Phryne’s husky voice murmured in his other ear. He felt her step close behind him, her bare skin still warm from the bed. Her hands slid around his waist, flattening against his belly, and Jack covered them with his free hand.

“Phryne says the Windsor at seven,” Jack parroted obediently. “If that’ll do?”

“Yes sir, that—that should be fine. Good, thank you sir.” Collins stumbled a bit, but recovered. “We’ll see you there.”

Murmuring his goodbye, Jack hung up the ‘phone. He turned, loving the feeling of Phryne’s arms sliding around his waist.

“I was going to come and wake you,” he said softly as he lowered his head to hers. 

“I got chilly,” she admitted with a smile. “Come and warm me up?”

Jack nodded, a small smile tweaking his lips. She squeezed him, then stepped back, and he glanced down her body. She was also naked, and he felt himself hardening at the sight of her. It had been months since she’d been in town, and although he hadn’t been celibate while she’d been away, she was still the one he dreamed of.

She glanced at him over her shoulder as she took his hand and led him down the hall, and he followed without hesitation. They had hours before they had to get dressed for dinner.

 

* * *

 

Jack shifted his shoulders within his suit jacket as he helped Phryne out of the steamcab, trying not to be resentful that Hugh and Dot had forced them out of bed. He consoled himself with the fact that the Windsor’s food was delicious and plentiful, and he could fill up without having to cook before taking Phryne back to bed. 

He’d missed her the past three months, and he hadn’t wanted to stop touching her long enough for them to dress. She looked beautiful, he had to admit—her deep teal gown had a boned bodice that emphasized her small waist and breasts, and the skin of her bare arms glowed against the silk. Her skirts swooped straight down her front and gathered to a small bustle in the back, and he found himself remarkably titillated by the occasional glimpse of her bare ankle. He pictured himself working his way under her skirt until he was completely covered, cocooned in the scented warmth between her legs.

“You’re smirking, Jack,” she murmured as she stepped close and wound her hand around his bicep.

“I’m making nefarious plans,” he replied, tilting his head toward her and covering her hand with his own. Her skin was warm against his fingers, and he felt her breast press into the back of his arm.

“I hope they involve me?” Her eyes sparkled up at him, their lashes darkened with kohl, though she didn’t need the enhancement. She’d also done something to her lips, and the bright red color was mesmerizing; each time she spoke, he found himself distracted by the shape of her mouth.

“Of course.” He let his smile grow just a little, knowing she’d read the promise in it.

Phryne blinked, her eyelids rising only halfway, and she looked at him from beneath dark lashes. “Show me later?”

They’d reached the door to the hotel, so Jack didn’t respond verbally, not wanting to scandalize the hotel staff. He winked at her, then thanked the doorman as the man stood aside, brass-and-glass-fitted oak door held wide to admit them into the lobby.

The Windsor was grand, and its plush red velvet carpeting, tufted leather furniture, and gilt-and-iron balusters could easily be overwhelming. Phryne, of course, moved as if she owned the space, and Jack found himself standing a little taller just for being on her arm. They walked confidently to the door of the restaurant and paused, scanning for their friends.

“Good evening, sir, madam.” The young woman who greeted them was dressed in the hotel’s signature red and gold palette, her bustle small and her skirts slim; she wore a fitted waistcoat and tie, and her white shirtsleeves were clean and bright. “Do you have a reservation?”

“We do, under the name of Fisher,” Phryne replied.

“Ah, of course, Miss Fisher,” the woman said with a smile, “Your guests are already here. Right this way.” Turning, she indicated that they should follow her into the restaurant. 

The table they’d been assigned was set diagonally in front of one of the room’s tall windows. Hugh rose as they approached, and Dot smiled happily. The two of them had dressed up too, Hugh in a well-cut gray suit and a deep green tie, and Dot in a beautiful jacquard gown in a deep shade of rose, its edges touched with creamy lace.

“Captain,” Hugh said, taking Phryne’s outstretched hand and bowing over it. Turning, he nodded to Jack. “Sir. Thank you for joining us.”

“It’s our pleasure, Hugh,” Phryne said, moving in to sit to Dot’s right and clasping the younger woman’s hand atop the table. “Dot, you look gorgeous. I knew that color would be stunning on you.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Dot said, blushing a little. “Your Madame Fleuri really does know her work, doesn’t she?” She glanced down at herself, her smile pleased. 

Jack sat in the last open chair, and Hugh reclaimed his seat next to Dot. “It’s good to see you, Dorothy,” he said quietly, “And the captain is right—you look beautiful this evening.” 

“Doesn’t she?” Hugh beamed at Dot. “I’m the luckiest man in the room.”

Jack looked at Phryne to see her mouth quirk in a small smile. Clasping her hand, he lifted her fingers to his lips, his eyes telegraphing his opinion that Hugh’s luck was second to his own. She tilted her head slightly at him, her eyes tender, and squeezed his fingers.

At that moment, the automated server rolled up to their table, carrying a silver champagne stand. The machine was shaped like a human torso but with a tray base and wheels, its waistcoat, tie, and shirtsleeves a duplicate for those of the rest of the staff. Its face was more of a suggestion of features than truly recognizable, and its mouth was a small oval speaker.

“Your champagne, sir,” it said, addressing itself to Hugh. “Shall I pour for you?” The server’s voice was mechanical, though these were obviously phrases rather than collections of single words. Jack eyed it, impressed. 

“Ah, yes, please,” Hugh said, his sidelong glance at Jack nervous.

Jack exchanged a glance with Phryne, who gave him a knowing look. As his gaze moved back to Hugh and the server, he caught Dot’s expression—excitement and nerves and a sort of giddy happiness that had her catching her lower lip between her teeth.

The server set the bucket between Hugh and Jack, and reached down to remove four crystal flutes from their hanging positions above its tray. Setting the glasses on the table, it deftly removed the champagne from the ice bucket and opened it with a muffled _pop_ of the cork. In short order, it had poured four glasses of the bubbly golden liquid and passed them around the table. 

Nestling the bottle back into the ice, it gave a small bow and said, “Please enjoy your evening,” before moving off, navigating gracefully between the tables.

Hugh cleared his throat, and lifted his glass with his left hand, laying his right hand flat on the table. “I wanted to start us off with champagne because Dottie and I have reason to celebrate tonight.”

“Oh?” Phryne lifted her glass; the evening sunlight through the window glinted on its edge.

“Yes,” Dot replied with a smile, lifting her left hand from her lap—for the first time since they’d arrived, Jack realized—and laying it over Hugh’s. A golden band set with a small diamond encircled her finger; the diamond’s setting resembled a flower, with golden petals curling up around the stone. “Hugh and I are engaged to be married.”

“Congratulations!” Jack reached over to slap his mate on the shoulder, and Hugh grinned a little foolishly.

“Well done, the both of you!” Phryne clapped her hands, then held up her champagne glass in a toast. “To Dot and Hugh—and a long, happy life together!”

The other three raised their own glasses, clinking them all together over the center of the table. A happy babble ensued, and Dot told the story of how Hugh had proposed the night before.

Hugh leaned close to Jack to murmur, “I tried to go to Shakespeare, but those words don’t work for me.” He flashed a smile, all bright white teeth. “Dot laughed when I said, ‘you shall from this time on be your master’s mistress’—I’m lucky she didn’t deck me. I ended up just winging it.”

Jack grinned. “Shakespeare can be tricky.”

“So when’s the big day, you two?” Phryne sipped at her champagne, her eyes sparkling. 

“We haven’t chosen one yet,” Dot admitted, looking over at Hugh. “But soon.” She nodded at her fiance, who cleared his throat again. Jack tilted his head—Hugh was still nervous.

“That’s… that’s something I’d like to talk to you about, sir,” he said.

“Oh?” Jack looked at his senior constable. The lad had become a man over the last year, and Jack thought he knew what was coming. 

“Yes, I—” Hugh broke off as the waiter stepped close to the table, ready to take their order. 

“If you all will allow me?” Phryne glanced around the table, and they all nodded. With a smile, she reeled off a menu for them, multiple courses plus dessert. “And do bring us more champagne, will you? This is a celebration!”

“Of course, madam,” the young man replied with a smile. He turned smartly on his heel and headed off toward the kitchen. 

Jack saw Phryne measure the worried glance that Hugh shot at Dorothy. She picked up her champagne glass and spoke softly. “I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me—I was hoping that I knew what your news was, and I do want to make this evening special. Say you’ll let me?”

Hugh swallowed and nodded as he met Phryne’s eyes, and Jack saw Dot’s smile widen. 

“Thank you, captain,” Dot said, her voice sincere. 

“It’s not every day my first mate gets engaged,” Phryne said, reaching to touch Dot’s hand again. “I am so happy for you!”

The automated server appeared then between Hugh and Jack, who leaned back in their chairs to allow it to slide a plate of caviar and toast points onto the table. With a soft _whirr_ , the supports beneath its torso lengthened and the server rose over the table to pour out the rest of the champagne before it sank down again and withdrew, empty bottle in hand.

“Now,” Jack said as he prepared a piece of toast for Phryne, handing it to her before making one for himself. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” 

Hugh glanced up from where he was preparing a bite for Dot. “Oh, yes. Um.” He set the toast point on Dot’s plate and wiped his hands, turning to Jack.

“The thing is, sir,” he said, his voice quiet but earnest. “Dot and I want to be together, so I’m planning to hand in my resignation—assuming the Captain will take me on?” He looked over at Phryne, who nodded.

“Of course I will,” she replied. “You’re a good worker, and Dot will be far happier if you’re on board.” She leaned to Jack and said in a whisper that was still loud enough for the other two at the table to hear, “She is an absolute _bear_ when she’s practicing chastity!”

“Captain!” Dot said, a laugh in her voice.

Phryne gave her a cheeky smile and bit into her toast. “Well, it’s true.”

Jack shook his head, both charmed and amused. “It sounds like you have a new position, Hugh,” he said, his voice easy. He took a drink of champagne, enjoying the way the sharpness of the bubbles contrasted with the creamy saltiness of the caviar.

“Yes, sir.” Hugh’s expression was earnest. “I just… I will miss working with you.” The words rushed out on a gust of air, and Hugh’s cheeks took on a rosy hue.

“I will miss you too, not least on the footy pitch!” Jack smiled at Hugh’s soft chuckle, then went on, his voice serious. “And should you ever decide that voyaging isn’t for you, there will be a place at STEEL for you as long as I’m there.”

Jack felt Phryne’s hand on his knee, and her soft squeeze of support. 

“Thank you, sir,” Hugh said, relief in his voice. He smiled and took a sip of his champagne, reaching to take Dot’s hand. His voice bright, he asked, “What about you two? Will you get married?”

Jack froze for a moment in the action of making himself another caviar toast, as he considered how to answer that. He darted a glance up to Phryne, who had just lifted her champagne flute to her lips. She met his eyes and gave a slight shrug.

“I’ve never been one to say ‘never’,” Jack said, resuming the crafting of his next bite, “but at this point, we’re happy as we are.”

 

* * *

 

Phryne swallowed her sip of champagne, pleased at Jack’s answer. They hadn’t had their “state of the relationship” discussion on this trip, but based on yesterday’s—and this morning’s, and this afternoon’s—welcome, she didn’t think they would need to make any changes just yet.

“We’ve both been in long-term relationships before,” she agreed, reaching for a toast point herself. “The way we are right now suits us both.”

“I am a firm believer in following your heart,” Dot said stoutly, with a sideways glance at her fiance. “No one’s path is quite the same, and as long as you’re not hurting anyone, what your path to happiness looks like is no one’s business but your own.”

Hugh smiled sheepishly. “I agree. It’s just… I’m so happy right now, I want everyone to feel the same way.” He lifted Dot’s hand to his lips.

“We may yet get there, who can say?” Phryne saw the surprised look that flashed over Jack’s face at the implication. “But for now, with the directions our jobs take us, we’re happy.” When she turned to look at Jack, he was wearing the tiniest smile, and yet she could see by the crinkle at the corner of his eyes that he agreed.

“Rather absurdly happy,” he agreed quietly, and she leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips, uncaring that they were in a public place. The air around their table seemed to still, and Phryne did her best to catalogue the perfection of the moment—the soft sounds of other diners, the warmth of the sun on her back, the scent of Jack’s breath and the look in his eyes. This was a moment to be stored away in her memory, a moment when everything was as it should be. Whatever life brought in the future, for this moment, all was right with the world.

Smiling, she lifted a hand to rub away the small smudge of red lip dye she’d left on the sharp edge of his philtrum, and Jack’s lips twitched—a tiny hidden kiss against the pad of her thumb. Darling man.

At that moment, their first course arrived, and the couples, each of which had drawn close together across their corners of the table, moved apart. Phryne looked over at Jack, who was examining the plate of small sandwiches with interest. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she watched him take a small bite and then, finding the flavor to his liking, a larger one. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to take him home and ravish him. Tamping down the impulse, she took a small bite of sandwich; they couldn’t leave just yet, but there was nothing stopping her from making plans for what she would do to her inspector after dinner.

 

* * *

 

Late that night, Jack and Phryne stood on his small front porch in the warmth of the summer night. They had managed to make it through dinner without actually groping each other, and they’d even behaved themselves in the steamcab on the way back to his house.

As he unlocked the front door, she pressed herself into his back, her hands snaking under his jacket to begin unbuttoning his waistcoat. 

“Hurry, Jack,” she whispered, sliding a hand down to cover his erection through his trousers. 

Jack nearly dropped the key, one hand covering her wandering one and pressing it tightly to his aching flesh. She’d teased him all evening, stroking his arm or his thigh as they talked to Hugh and Dot, and Jack had been hard for hours now.

“Shit, Phryne,” he murmured, fitting the key in the lock and turning it. Phryne gave him a soft squeeze as the lock clicked open; Jack held her hand against him as he stepped through into his darkened front hallway. Turning with her, he closed the door, then pushed her up against the wall beside it. “I have been thinking of this all evening,” he growled, and kissed her.

Phryne whimpered, sliding her arms around his waist as he thrust his tongue warmly into her mouth. He pushed his hips into her, letting her feel his hard length as he ate at her mouth, his hands diving into her hair to dislodge her sparkling fascinator, which fell to the floor with a soft clatter. Phryne slid her hands down to cup his buttocks, pulling him even closer, and Jack moaned softly before pulling his mouth from hers, his breathing heavy. 

“Jack,” she whispered, and he tilted his head at her, holding her eyes as he dropped to his knees. “Jack,” she said again as he lifted the hem of her skirts, and then “Jack!” again when he buried his face between her thighs.

“This,” he said against her, his fingers drawing the gusset of her knickers aside, “is the meal I couldn’t take my mind off since I saw you in this dress.” He said the last words against her skin, enjoying the shudder that went through her body.

“Well, then, far be it from me to deny you,” she said, lifting one leg to hook her knee over his shoulder and open herself up to his mouth. 

He smiled in the dark and fragrant space beneath her skirts, and then began his meal in earnest, relishing the sounds she made as he feasted on her. She was wet already—she’d been feeling the slow build of desire through dinner too, apparently—and he moaned at the flavor of her as it coated his tongue. Before long, she was writhing against him, and he slid a hand up her leg to bring his fingers into play. 

“God, yes, like that,” she gasped, her hands gripping his head to keep him close. 

He plunged two fingers inside her body and fastened his lips around her clit, using his tongue to thrum gently against her turgid flesh. Stroking his fingers in and out of her body as he alternated sucking and licking, Jack let himself get lost in the taste and feel of her body. So much so that when she came, her thighs shaking around him, he was surprised.

When her shuddering stopped, he stood and pressed his forehead to hers, licking his lips to gather the last of her juices. “This dress is beautiful. You should take it off now.”

Phryne laughed, a joyful sound, and kissed him, her tongue sliding wetly along his. Raising her head, she led the way to his bedroom with long, loose strides. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes mischievous and the red of her lip dye a slash of color against her flushed cheeks.

“I’m going to need your help with these buttons again, Jack,” she purred, indicating with a wave of her hand the line of buttons that marched down her spine. Jack’s memory flashed to doing them up earlier in the evening—he might even trace his current agonizingly aroused state to that beginning.

“It will be my pleasure,” he growled, following her. He undid his tie and began on his own buttons, not wanting any delay in being skin to skin with her. He’d been without her for three months, and though he’d had other lovers in that time, they were nothing like Phryne Fisher. They never could be. It was time to demonstrate that.

 

* * *

 

Jack woke in darkness, knowing that something was off. He stretched a hand out, searching for Phryne, but her side of the bed was cool.

“Phryne?” He pitched his voice low as he sat up, swinging his legs out of bed. When there was no response, he rose and headed to his en suite. “Phryne?” Not finding her there, either, he headed out of the bedroom and down the hall toward the kitchen, uncaring that he was entirely naked. “Phryne?” He called her name one last time.

“Here, Jack,” she called in the same low tone. “In the kitchen.”

Jack rounded the corner from the hall and leaned a shoulder against the open doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. Phryne stood, completely nude, in the middle of his kitchen, munching on a slice of toast.

“I woke up and was hungry,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Smiling, Jack moved toward her and plucked the toast from her fingers, taking a bite. “Mmm, marmalade.”

Licking her lips, Phryne grinned at him. “You’re just lucky I made two pieces, Jack Robinson,” she teased, picking up the second and tearing into it with strong white teeth.

“I always make extra when I know you’ll be around, love,” he said with a shrug, leaning a hip against the counter beside her. “You have a tendency to steal mine.”

“And you have an insatiable appetite,” she returned.

His eyelids lowered and he gave her a meaningful look. “Only when it comes to you, captain.”

Phryne’s return smile was small, and she took another bite. Jack polished his piece off in moments, then tidied away the makings while she finished hers. They turned back to the bedroom together, arms sliding around each other’s waists. Jack rubbed his thumb against her ribs, enjoying the texture of her soft skin, and Phryne turned to wrap both arms around him, her face lifting to his kiss.

“So Jack,” Phryne said, her voice sultry, “we’ve been so busy, you haven’t had a chance to tell me about what you’ve been up to since I saw you last.”

“Mostly business,” he admitted. As they stepped into the bedroom, he let her move in front of him, stroking his hand from her side down to cup her bottom. “Though there was pleasure as well.”

Her smile had a tinge of naughtiness as she set a knee on the edge of the bed. “Oh really? The blonde you met at the theater?”

“Mmm, no,” he said, his hand trailing down her thigh and then dropping away as she moved. “This was someone else.”

“Tell me,” she whispered. Jack smirked. She loved to hear about his amorous adventures—he wasn’t sure why, but she asked him every time about the lovers he’d taken while she was away. His list was considerably shorter than hers, usually—and less interesting, seeing as she often found lovers from among the non-humans she encountered. He wasn’t quite as interested in hearing about her exploits, but he had to admit that the stories were stimulating. He did love knowing that she’d enjoyed herself, however that enjoyment took place.

“I met a teacher at the university when I went there to follow up on a case,” he began, watching as she crawled up onto his bed, her bottom swaying with her movement, and the pink petals of her sex visible. Unable to help himself, he reached out to caress her, his thumbs slipping between her thighs to brush against her sensitive lips. “She’s a ginger—”

“A natural one?” Phryne’s voice was breathy, and she stilled to let him caress her.

“It appeared so, when I had the opportunity to evaluate it,” he murmured. When he was with Phryne, it was difficult to think of any other woman, a fact that was not reflected when he was with someone else. He often found himself comparing those other women to her; if any of them had been serious about the time they’d spent with him, he’d feel guilty about that. They weren’t serious, though, any more than he was—they wanted only the release of sex, and he’d been pleased when a few had expressed interest in keeping their options for “friendship” with him open.

“Did you have to court her, Jack?” 

Jack held her hip with one hand while the other turned to slide between her legs, his fingers gliding over her rapidly dampening flesh. He stepped up to the edge of the bed, nudging her feet apart with his thighs as he bent over her, his lips trailing along her back.

“No, but I did take her dancing,” he admitted. “Turned out that she lived in a flat above the club where we met for the evening.” 

“Ah, so you danced, and then you _danced_?” Phryne’s breath caught as he slid two fingers inside her body, twisting them lightly before withdrawing, only to plunge in again.

“Mmm-hm,” he said, sliding his mouth up her spine as he set one knee and then the other on the edge of the bed and fitted his hips to hers, his fingers sliding out to make room for his cock to nudge against her opening. His hand on her hip slid up to cup her breast and his mouth wandered over her shoulder. “She had freckles here, like you do,” he murmured, “and they were practically all I could see.”

“And did you enjoy yourself with her, Jack?” Phryne’s hand reached back to cup his hip as he slid his hardened length inside her, slow and deep. He felt her fingernails biting into his buttock, and moved his hand around her hip to rub gently at her clit as he began to thrust.

“I did,” he said, closing his eyes as his other hand found her breast. “She was very good with her mouth, and she knew just what she wanted from me.” He lifted his head and took her earlobe in his mouth, his hips gaining speed until they were pistoning against her. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I have a weakness for demanding women, it seems.”

Phryne shuddered as he spoke, her breath coming out in a gasp as he used the edge of his teeth against her earlobe. With a cry, she came, her body quaking. Jack drove himself into her, holding fast at the deepest point while she broke apart around him.

 

* * *

 

Phryne came back to herself slowly, feeling Jack deep within her body, his hands stroking her sides as she shook with release. She didn’t know why it pleased her to hear about the romantic moments Jack had while she was away, but it did—perhaps it had to do with knowing that he had been sincere about accepting hers? Whatever the reason, hearing it seemed to amp up her pleasure in unexpected ways, not least because he always made it clear that she was still his priority. That pleased her more than it should, really.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, her smile growing as she glimpsed the smug curve of his lips. Dropping down to her elbows, she pushed back against him, loving the hiss of his indrawn breath at the sensation.

“Shall I tell you about my adventures?” She purred, beginning to move her body, loving the slide of his flesh into hers.

“Go on, then,” Jack muttered, and she could tell that his attention was on the sensations of fucking.

Phryne pitched her voice low as she told the story of one of her conquests, knowing that he’d hear her tone more than her words. That would be all right, since she understood that although he wholeheartedly supported her exploits, he didn’t need to hear the details. He took over the rhythm of their lovemaking as she spoke, and she could feel his urgency rising as he moved. 

When he tired, she pushed up against the mattress, nudging him down to sit on his heels as she leaned back into him; he stroked his hands up her stomach to cover her breasts, burying his head in her neck. While he rested, she moved against him, one hand between her legs to stimulate them both; her head dropped backward onto his shoulder, and her other hand lifted to fist in his hair. 

“...and no one in the bar even realized what we’d been doing,” she murmured in his ear. “All I could think was that if it had been you, I’d’ve had a harder time staying quiet.” 

“Fuck, Phryne,” Jack groaned into her neck. 

Lifting his head, he kissed her cheek and she turned her head to meet his mouth, whispering, “You are always with me, Jack Robinson,” before capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

She felt Jack’s climax ripple through his body, his hands tightening on her breasts, his stomach clenching against her buttocks, and his moan vibrating across her tongue. The warmth of his release flooded her, and the way he shuddered filled her with tenderness. 

When she’d demanded that they talk about how their arrangement made them feel, she’d never anticipated it taking this turn. They’d spent a fortnight together after their trip to Caragnana, and it had been wonderful. He’d had to work during the day, but so had she, and they’d spent the evenings and the mornings, plus his few days off, learning about each other.

Her next trip out had taken her away for three months, and though she’d missed him, the knowledge that he would be there when she got back to Melbourne had centered her. She’d had erotic adventures while she was away, and when she’d returned home, she’d been more attracted to him than ever. After they’d greeted each other in a very satisfactory manner, they’d talked, careful of their promise to communicate. Jack had admitted he’d dated over the months they’d been apart, and it had thrilled her deep down that he’d taken care of his own needs rather than moping about waiting for her to return. When he’d reacted the same way to the tales of her exploits, she’d been forced to seduce him again.

After that, sharing their conquests had become just something they did. In addition to adding spice to their reunions, the knowledge had served to confirm that neither had met anyone else who made them doubt their commitment.

Sliding off of him, she turned to loop her arms around his neck and kiss him once more. She never seemed to get enough of his kisses. He stroked her hair and guided her down to lie against the pillows, tugging the covers up and over them both.

“I never asked,” he murmured. “How long are you staying this time?”

“At least ten days, I think. Maybe as long as two weeks.” She sighed a little, torn between excitement that she’d be going out into space again and sadness that she’d be leaving him behind.

“I can take a few days off, if you like,” he offered, his voice sleepy. “I rarely do, when you’re gone, and the chief is very accommodating when you’re in town.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I need to have dinner with my aunt and uncle while I’m in town.” She stroked his chest absently, enjoying the texture of his skin. “Will you come with me? I’m sure that Aunt Prudence would like to see you.”

“Mmm,” he opined. 

Phryne laughed quietly at his noncommittal answer. Her aunt was a force of nature, and she used the family dinners to interrogate Jack on his intentions toward her goddaughter. “She loves you, really. You’re the closest she’s come to seeing me settle down.”

Jack snorted lightly and tugged her close, tucking her head under his chin. “Let’s discuss it when I’ve had a little rest. You can persuade me.”

“I suppose I can cope with that,” she said with a smile. Phryne nestled her head against Jack’s chest and breathed him in, loving the scent and the feel of him as much in these moments before sleep as in any of their lovemaking. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift toward sleep, knowing that she was home. 


End file.
